Substance Undetermined
by Oh-darling-if-only-you-knew
Summary: AU. After years without contact, Dean suddenly gets invited to move in with Sam. However, when he gets there he finds himself getting stuck in a dark world he wants nothing to do with. No-one can be trusted, everyone's morality is questionable - eventually, even Dean's... Destiel slash, slight Ruby/Sam, later in the story Sabriel as well.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: To celebrate episode 200 (two days late), here's my newest fic! (This is basically what happens when my roommate puts on Candy Shop by 50 Cent. I don't like the song, but the clip made me think "Ooh, I can write another dark Destiel fic partially set in a house like that!") So warning: this'll get dark. I have a vague idea where this is headed, and I can tell you already that there'll be drugs, smut, angst, dubious consent, and a dark side to all major characters in this story. Perhaps some kinky stuff in the smut. You're more than welcome to send me requests for some small details you would like to see happening ;) Sabriel will come quite late in this story, just so you know. The focus is really Destiel when it comes to pairing. And other than that, I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: FFS No I don't own Supernatural now stop reminding me of it!

~666~

They had been driving all evening, and it was already past midnight when the dark outline of Sam's place came into view.

A soft whistle escaped Dean's lips. "Dude, did you buy this place off the Addams family?" Sam sighed. "Just drive up the lane, Dean."

The house was… Well, it wasn't really something you could consider a house. More a mansion. A freaking haunted mansion by the looks of it. It really had the whole shebang, greyish green surroundings, overgrown lawns, fog, wrought-iron gates that opened on their own, Victorian style creepiness, all that good stuff. If Dean had ever seen the clip of Candy Shop by 50 Cent, he'd be seriously disturbed by Sam's living preferences.

Well, even more than he was now.

He parked the Impala at the front door, next to the overgrown half-crumbled fountain. "Seriously, Sammy, why this dump?" His sasquatch of a brother shrugged. "It was surprisingly cheap, you know. And the inside is actually in pretty good condition." "Yeah, well, whatever you say, Wednesday," Dean muttered.

Suddenly the front door opened, flooding the area with a warm yellow light and nearly blinding Dean. Sam just got out of the car, his arms wide.

"Hey boys," it sounded from the doorstep. Dean squinted. "Ellen? Is that you?" His younger brother had already given her a friendly hug. "Well if you get out of that car, Dean, you'll be able to come up and see for yourself."

Dean quickly followed his brother and hugged the woman that had been like a mother for the bigger part of his life. "What are you doing here, Ellen? I thought you preferred staying independent from Sam's stuff."

Ellen gave a bitter smile. "Yeah, I did say that didn't I?" "The Roadhouse burned down," Sam remarked as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Ellen winced slightly while Dean just stared at him with his mouth open. "Dude, discretion?"

The younger brother's gaze flicked to the woman next to him, but he didn't show remorse. Ellen shook her head. "It's fine, Dean. Me and Jo didn't have anywhere to go, so Sam offered us a place here. We work to earn our keep, and to be fair, it's quite doable. I mostly deal with the other staff here while Jo just makes sure everything stays up and running. And at least I don't have to deal with money business anymore."

Dean nodded, but he still gave her hand a small squeeze, which was answered by a grateful nod.

"Now let's get you boys inside before you catch pneumonia in this fog," the woman spoke gruffly, but with fondness in her voice. "There's steak and potatoes waiting for you." Dean could feel his mouth water as his stomach rumbled, and he quickly followed his nose, even though Ellen was supposed to lead the way.

Sam gave Ellen a quick nod. "Sorry, Ellen, but you know the drill." She nodded back. "'Course. I'll send someone up."

Dean raised his eyebrows as his younger brother walked away and up the grand staircase. "So where's the Samsquatch going?"

"Oh, he usually goes up to his study to do some work, phone someone or sort out some bills or whatever. Most times he doesn't join for dinner, I just have someone bring it up to him."

Dean huffed. "Typical," he muttered.

Sam had walked out on the family as soon as he had hit eighteen, dropped off the grid and by the time he showed up again he had a shit-tonne of money and no clear explanation as to how he had gotten it. He was still in the business, and he really was quite ruthless at it apparently. But it had changed him a little as well.

As a kid he had been fine with being a bit more isolated and just reading a book while other kids were playing. Nowadays he actively isolated himself. And even though Dean had sort of been half-expecting it, it still managed to piss him off slightly. After all, he was a guest here. And his host had just fucked off. Not just his host; his younger brother.

Such a lovely family.

Ellen led him into the kitchen, where the smell was truly _amazing_. She called forward the scrawniest guy in the universe, his ears sticking out to the sides, a tired but goofy smile on his face. "Garth, could you please go up and give Sam his dinner? You can go to bed after that." The guy nodded, took the plate, greeted Dean with a quick "Hey, other Mr. W" and disappeared through the door.

Ellen sat herself down with a sigh and dragged a plate towards herself, indicating that Dean should do the same. "It's good to see you again, Dean," she said between two bites. He gave her a smile. "You too, Ellen. But why didn't you eat earlier?"

She shrugged. "That's just how it goes when you have to look out over a household. You continue working until past midnight, have dinner around twelve-thirty, go to bed and get up again at five-thirty. And that every day, even Sundays."

Dean gave a low whistle. "Commitment." She laughed harshly. "Nah, it's just the job. But like I said, at least I don't have to stare at bank balances anymore. Now that was a pain, I can tell you."

Dean nodded. He understood that, having worked at a snobby company himself. He had actually been seated quite far to the top, but eventually it just became too much and he snapped. He quit his job the same day and never looked back again.

That was, until the absence of money started to really stick out.

But he refused to go back, and when he told Sam all about it, he was (pleasantly? He actually didn't have a clue) surprised to find himself invited to go and have lunch together. They had spent all afternoon talking, and in the end Sam had somehow convinced him to just drive back to his apartment together, gather the most important stuff and then leave everything behind to move in with his little brother, perhaps temporary, perhaps not. Sam had called ahead to make sure a bedroom was ready, and five hours later they had arrived.

He was about to get up from the meal they had been sharing in comfortable silence when a young woman with sleek blond hair and scars all over her right cheek walked in. Dean had to do a double-take before he recognised her.

"Jo?"

Her face lit up in the most radiant smile. "Hey, Dean!" He quickly got up to give her a hug, then sat back down.

His eyes settled on the rippling skin on her cheek and he swallowed. "Seems I've eh… missed quite a lot."

"Yeah, you could say that," Ellen retorted dryly. "Jo, you were supposed to be in bed two hours ago. What are you still doing up?"

Jo smiled again at Dean, and it made her scars almost look invisible. Almost. "I heard Dean was coming, so I had to stay up, of course."

She now turned her attention back to Ellen again. "Garth came to my room to tell me he arrived. He also asked me to pass on the message that Sam wants to host another party in three days."

Ellen's face hardened a little. "Formal or informal?"

"Formal. He wants more funding, and he wants to introduce certain people to each other. You know the profits he gets from that."

She loosened up again, but only a little. "No I don't, Jo, and neither do you." She gave her daughter a stern look until Jo averted her gaze and nodded. "Okay, well, ask him if he has a list of guests yet, or at least an idea of how many he's inviting. That'll give us an idea of what to do with our preparations. As long as he doesn't come up with it all on the same morning, we should be fine."

Jo stretched and went over to kiss her mother on the cheek. "You can go to bed, mom. I'll show Dean his room and do the dishes after."

Ellen gave her a grateful hug before getting up. "Goodnight, Dean. Don't make it too late, Jo."

Jo and Dean uttered their goodnight's and left the kitchen. Jo led Dean up the stairs and down the hallway. There was no carpet to cover the dark wooden floorboards here, which he saw as a small disappointment, but hey, at least he could slide down the hall on his socks if he felt like it. What? Was Dean not allowed to be so childish? Tough. Everyone needs some youthfulness every now and then.

His room was halfway along the hallway. Jo pointed at two doors at the end, noting that those were Sam's study and bedroom, and Dean should probably just stay out of them.

They entered his room. It was quite spacious, but not huge. The bed was king-size, so that was good, and though all the wood was quite dark, it was contrasted by lighter coloured sheets, pillows and covers on the chairs.

Dean sat down on the bed, noticing that his suitcase had already been brought up. Jo went and sat down on the chair opposite him.

For a moment both of them were silent, until Dean finally spoke up.

"Jo, your face, I'm sorry…"

She shook her head. "It's okay, Dean. Really. It's not your fault. It can actually be quite useful at times, when Sam throws a party with slightly… less decent guests. They don't want to force themselves on me as much as they would without the scars." She swallowed. "Besides, you haven't seen mom's yet. Her back was almost completely stripped of skin."

Another silence fell between them. Then Jo finally seemed to snap out of wherever her mind was, and gave Dean another warm smile. "So, what are you gonna do here, Dean? I mean, you can't sit inside all day and do nothing."

Dean shrugged. "Don't really know yet. But I'm gonna talk to Sam about it tomorrow, see what I can do to help out, learn my way around the business he does." He gave her a quick glance. "You don't happen to know what it is, do you?"

At this, Jo suddenly looked a lot more cautious. "I don't," she answered, but somehow Dean felt like she was lying. Why would she lie? What was she hiding? _What the hell was going on here?_

Before he could say anything else though, Jo quickly got up. "Well, it's good to have you around, Dean. Goodnight." She bent forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. But right before she pulled back, she whispered: "_The rooms are bugged_."

When she pulled back she could see Dean's shocked face and she gave him a quick frown – _cameras as well_. He quickly blanked his expression. "Yeah, 'night Jo."

As soon as she closed the door behind her, Dean got up and started undressing. It was too damn late and he had been driving for a while and he just wanted to _sleep_. But apparently he had landed himself with a crazy-ass brother with some weird mafia-vibe who seemed to be intent on watching everyone's every move. Now that was just _wrong_. What if Dean wanted to have some private fun? Was he supposed to find some corner of the bathroom where he couldn't be seen? Jeez, this was like Big Brother. But worse. Because Big Brother turned out to be his own little brother.

Yeah, with all those thoughts churning in his head, sleep would most likely be a rare luxury tonight.

Christ, what had he gotten himself into?

~666~

A/N: For those who are curious about more dark Spn fics, I also wrote one called Purity regained. For those who want more happiness, I'm writing a happier Cockles fic, and then there's a small series of one-shots as well called A fever you can't sweat out, which is not dark. If there's something you'd like me to write for you, please, request, I'm up for anything! Just check my profile :) Yeah, review, request, and have a nice day :)


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was as lonely in his breakfast as he had been in his dinner the previous night. It wasn't that he minded being alone, it was just _rude_. But then again, something told him that there were more dark sides to Sam these days than just rudeness. And he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to find out about them.

It took him ten minutes before he had found Ellen. She was talking on the phone with someone about ordering champagne, but when she saw Dean she took a moment to tell him he could try and talk to Sam _if_ he remembered to knock. Otherwise he'd be in a world of trouble.

_Fan-fucking-tastic._

Dean felt as if _he_ was the younger brother here. And it really fucking sucked.

He walked back up the stairs to Sam's office. For a second he pondered on whether or not to press his ear against the door and check if his brother was busy, but then he remembered the cameras Jo hinted at and decided against it.

He straightened his back _(what the hell, this wasn't some job interview, it was his own freaking little brother)_ and knocked on the door.

For a moment Dean didn't think he would receive an answer, but then Sam's voice sounded. "Come in." So he did.

Okay, so maybe the past ten hours had managed to influence his imagination a little, but he was slightly disappointed when he didn't find Sam in a big dark leather chair, staring at screens with the images that were recorded by the cameras while stroking a cat that was lounging on his lap.

Instead, it was quite a light and modern room, almost too clean. It had a clinical feel to it, which Dean found more unsettling than a dark and stereotypical evil lair. That image would have felt cartoon-like, something he wouldn't have taken seriously. And maybe that's why he was disappointed. It would have shown that Sam was just messing with him. This, on the other hand… This reminded Dean of psychopaths. Real psychopaths.

And wasn't that infinitely worse?

Sam looked up from the papers he had been sorting through. "Oh, Dean," he stated as if he had just pointed at a boulder and had said _yes, that is indeed a rock_. It kind of stung.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," Dean spoke up, trying to make himself sound as casual as possible. Sam shook his head. "No, it's fine, I can spare a few minutes of my time."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm putting a list of guests together for the party I'm throwing soon. Ellen requested it."

"Oh."

For a moment, the silence between the two men felt tangible, painful almost. Then Sam spoke up.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?"

_Eh…_ Dean's mind had gone completely blank. _Well wasn't that just great._

His younger brother let him hang like that for half a minute before speaking up again.

"I haven't got all the time in the world, Dean. I need to get back to work in a second."

"Yes!" Dean almost shouted. "I mean, no! I mean yes! Eh, sorry. I was gonna ask you if you had anything for me to do while I'm here. You know. I can't just hang around all day."

Sam nodded. "You're right, you can't." God, that just sounded like he was worried that Dean would start exploring and finding out stuff he shouldn't. And maybe that was the case. Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, waiting for Sam to continue.

The younger man turned back to his desk and shuffled his papers. "Let me see…" He did this for a minute or so longer. Dean would've felt more comfortable if he would occasionally mutter to himself, but Sam was completely silent, every move carefully calculated.

Eventually he straightened himself in his seat again. "Sorry Dean, right now I don't have anything lying around that you can help me with. However, you can be of some use at the party."

_Of some use._ Ouch.

"Since you might get bored in the meantime, the library is in the East wing. If you're worried about getting lost, you could easily ask any of the staff. Now, if you'll excuse me, I still have some work to do."

And that was that.

Slightly baffled, Dean walked out of the office. That hadn't even been a conversation. No talking, no negotiation, no _Hey Sammy, how are you, I know we talked yesterday but you said zilch about yourself and let me do the all the talking, so I was wondering where the hell you've been and what you've been doing_.

To be frank, he was just getting more and more creeped out and felt like he knew less and less.

And now he wanted to investigate. But he couldn't; every move was being watched.

Or that was what Jo said.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Jo. He just hadn't seen any proof of it yet.

Screw the library; first thing on his agenda was finding the cameras and mics that were supposedly hidden in his room.

~666~

_Or not._

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Unless Sam or his handymen were extremely good and had used the tiniest equipment, there was nothing to be found.

And yeah, sure, there was the possibility that Sam had bought the most expensive equipment to bug the entire house with, but that on its own cost a fortune – and for what? Besides, it all sounded so farfetched.

So if that wasn't the case, that meant Jo had lied. Or been misled.

But _why?_ And how?

Dean was seriously getting a headache from all of it. Maybe he _should_ go to the library. It would be a welcome distraction.

He managed to find Garth in the kitchen. On their way to the library the boy kept chattering about something he had seen on TV about werewolves, his favourite supernatural creatures apparently. Dean let him; it felt oddly normal and comforting.

The fact that he needed that right now might say something worrying about the atmosphere in the house.

The library was huge. Honestly, it was ridiculous. It wasn't like you sometimes saw in films, a few bookcases around a chair and a fire. No. This was more like an actual library, rows upon rows of bookcases, lit by dim fire-like light. It managed to make Dean smile again. Somehow it showed him that there was still a part of the old Sam that he once knew left, a part that adored books and could spend hours in this room reading when he managed to find the time.

Dean walked past the shelves. Everything was labelled and organised. It was book heaven for anyone who dreamt of having their own collection.

Eventually he settled for the Lord of the Rings. He had read it before of course; in fact, he had read it to Sammy whenever the younger brother had been ill. He needed the good memories and comfort this book would bring him right now.

By the time he finally looked up from the pages, he was starving. And no wonder; the sun had already gone down almost completely. He'd missed lunch. Had it been summer, he would've missed dinner as well, but instead it was half-way through October and it couldn't be much later than half-six.

He wanted to go to the kitchen again, but Jo ushered him into the dining room where to his surprise Sam was actually sitting and waiting for him.

The younger brother smiled. "Hey Dean," he greeted. "I'm sorry I was so blunt earlier today. I wanted to make it up to you, so I thought we could have our dinner together."

For a moment Dean was completely stunned. It didn't take him long to clear his mind though. Something about Sam's smile felt genuine, and it felt like he hadn't seen that in ages. He smiled too and sat down next to his little brother. They were quickly joined by Ellen, Jo, Garth, and three more members of staff who introduced themselves as Charlie, Ash and Meg.

The conversation quickly splintered into groups. Ellen and Meg talked about the last party that had been hosted and how they could improve in the smoothness of running the next one, Jo and Garth managed to make their conversation 90% Fairly Odd Parents quotes, and Charlie and Ash delved into a conversation that involved mostly technobabble, Battle Star Galactica and the classic Star Wars vs Star Trek discussion.

This left Sam free to talk to Dean. The younger brother gave a wide smile. "I know I said it yesterday, but I really did miss you, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, please, enough with the chick-flick moments." But he smiled nevertheless. Everything suddenly felt so normal and familiar again. For a moment he forgot about the creepy house and the creepy behaviour he had seen of its residents. He was just sitting in the dining room, having dinner with his little brother and some friends.

"So, Sammy, what did you in the past few years? I mean, even if this place is cheaper than average, it still can't be easily affordable."

Sam smiled and directed his gaze to his plate, humbled by the suggestion that he was loaded. "Oh, you know, money business," he said as he put some food in his mouth. "Marketing and stuff like that. It's what I host these parties for, you know. Getting people to meet each other, creating a network, getting more interested parties for the merchandise I help to sell."

"What kind of merchandise is that?" It wasn't that Dean would normally be terribly interested, but Sam was being vague, and that worried him. His little brother couldn't be both his old happy self and the cold distant person he had been this afternoon. That just wasn't right. Something wasn't right.

Sam just waved his hand in a vague gesture. _Fantastic. More vagueness._ "Hell, I don't even know most of the time. I just need to make sure the word on the product spreads amongst people. Those parties are really good for that."

"So what about the informal parties?"

The entire table fell silent, except for the suddenly horribly _loud_ clattering of Sam putting his cutlery down.

"What do you mean, informal parties?"

Dean swallowed. Sam still seemed to have a little bit of that happy version of himself somewhere, but his face had become cautious. Suspicious.

"It's just a, eh, something I thought I had heard someone mention. I don't even know who, I just, I heard it – I think…"

It was silent for at least three minutes – the most excruciating three minutes of Dean's life. Then, finally, Jo raised her hand.

"Sorry, that might have been my fault I think. I asked mom if I should inform after the party."

It was silent for another few seconds, but then Sam smiled. "Of course. I got confused there for a moment."

The conversation quickly drifted off to casual nonsense again, but Dean could still feel the tension, the threat. But the one thing that worried him most was Sam. He was the one radiating the threat, but the tension in the air also came from him as well as the other people. And Dean really didn't know what to make of that.

~666~

A/N: So, I know this story has only just started, but I can already say (even though I haven't written many chapters yet) that it'll be a bit of a rollercoaster (hopefully). And I wonder who you guys think the biggest bad guy will be in this story. There'll be many big characters from the show in this story, so please, throw some names at me! (Though if you've read my fic Purity regained, or just the summary of the story, you'd probably know that in my world there is no such thing as a standard villain... Just like in the show, where even Lucifer is known as "misunderstood".) Anyway, please, review, send requests, I'd love to hear from you :) And have a nice day!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Omg thank you so much Diana for your reviews, they really make me smile, and I'm so annoyed at myself for not thanking you last chapter.. Oh well. Hope you, and other readers, will enjoy this next chapter too! And the mystery and suspense builds...

~666~

Dean quickly hid in his room after that. He didn't want to face any of the people who worked here after that major fuck-up. And if he was honest, he was terrified of Sam as well, painful as that was to admit.

And curious as he was about the secrets within this house, it was a matter of doing what he always did and go pull this place apart, or put his stubbornness aside to protect Ellen and Jo. He knew he could hold out this night, but the next morning wouldn't be as easy.

Luckily his immune system decided for him, making sure he was glued to his bed with the flu. Garth was the one to bring him his food, something he was very grateful for – at least there was less emotional manipulation there than there would be with Jo. The guy barely said anything, which was probably because he was under orders, but Dean was too ill to drill him anyway.

Though he couldn't exactly leave his bed without feeling like he would hurl, he could still hear people shuffle around as the party approached. Dean knew he had one of the guest rooms, which meant there were more guest rooms around him, so there had to be people staying over beforehand.

And that's where being bed-ridden became a pain again. Because why would your guests stay over before the party? To talk. Have meetings. And Dean would willingly give his left hand right now to get out of that bed and eavesdrop. He had to find out what was going on. And he _fucking couldn't_.

And of course, by the time he opened his eyes and didn't see the world swaying around him, it was already half past eleven in the morning on the day of the party. _Typical_. He went down to the kitchen, not in the mood to stay in that goddamn bedroom another minute.

To his surprise he found all the staff from his disastrous dinner there, having lunch together. As soon as Ellen saw him she smiled and quickly got him a plate. "It's good to see you up and running again, honey," she said.

Dean laughed half-heartedly. "Yeah, well, can't quite say I'm running yet." He took a seat next to Jo, who gave him a friendly smile. "So, what have I missed? Aren't you guys busy with party preparations?"

Garth shrugged. "Well we gotta eat sometime, don't we?" he answered, small bits of food flying from his mouth. "Besides, we also have to make sure Sam and his guests get their lunch, so we're pretty busy. Hence the early lunch for us."

Dean nodded and grabbed some food for himself from the table. He suddenly felt the need for some normal conversation.

"So what do you guys all do around here?"

Ellen smiled. "Well, you know me and Jo, and Garth as well by now. I'm guessing the rest of you want to tell it yourselves?"

"Well, I don't even know what I'm doing half the time," Charlie responded. "I mean, I guess I do accounting? Except I don't really get to see much. Sometimes I work on Sam's digital correspondence, you know, cloaking his email and tweaking his digital business cards. It's all very hush-hush. But don't tell him I said that!"

The others looked at her awkwardly, but there was something about her that made the atmosphere a lot less painful.

Ash cleared his throat. "Anyway," he said, "while she does all that, I'm stuck with the boring bits of looking after the security footage."

"So there _are_ cameras?" Dean piped up. He could feel Jo become tense next to him, and he suddenly realised that he had managed to make it clear that he had doubted her. He quickly glanced to the side, but she was avoiding his gaze. _Perfect._

"Yeah," Ash answered. "I mean what do you expect? Big-ass house, money business everywhere, parties where you never know what the guests are up to… Of course there are some cameras here and there."

_Hm._ That didn't sound like bugged rooms at all. But maybe Ash was lying. Dean hoped the guy was lying. He resented the Big Brother idea as much as when he just came here, but when it came to choosing who to believe, he definitely chose his old friend over a stranger.

Although, the guy did seem familiar.

"Hey Ash, did we meet before?"

Ash shrugged. "Technically, no, but I was basically an inhabitant of the Roadhouse."

"Oh." It was silent for a moment. "So where you there when…"

"When it burnt to a crisp?" Even though Ash managed to sound quite nonchalant about most things, a small amount of bitterness managed to creep into his voice here. "Sure was. Nearly lost my life there. Sam saved me though."

"Wait, Sam was there?"

Ash glanced at Ellen, but the older woman gave nothing away, her face made of stone. "Yeah, Sam was there. He was actually planning to stay for a few nights, since he didn't really have anywhere to go. But on the first night the place went up in flames. Your little bro was the only one to come out without a scratch."

Dean was quite sure there was an accusation hidden in there somewhere, but was quickly distracted by another person clearing their throat.

"Hi, I'm Meg, I'm the nurse!"

This caught Dean's attention again. "Why would this place need a nurse?"

"Well technically I'm in training, but I take care of these guys' scars and shit, you know? That, and I'm just hanging around and jumping in when needed."

Dean glared at her. "So where were you the past few days when I was dying from the flu?"

Meg scoffed. "Yeah, man-flu more like. You weren't dying, and I wasn't needed. Not for a fucking flu. What did you want me to do, hold your hand? If you're expecting bedside manner you can wait a long, long time, cupcake."

Dean was about to snap at her, but was interrupted by Ellen getting up. "Jo, clear the table please. The rest of you, I could use all the help I can get. Break-time's over, people. Back to work."

Dean quickly got up as well. "Can I help? I just don't want to be hanging around all day when I could actually prove to be of some use."

The woman thought for a moment, then nodded. "Might as well. I could use your muscles. 'Cause Ash and Garth are about as useful there as Charlie; all the effort, not all the manpower."

"Hey, I've got manpower!" Charlie huffed. "Yeah, she's got manpower!" Garth backed her up. Jo chuckled at this while Ellen gave a small smile. "Fair enough, Charlie, yes, you're definitely of more use than the boys. Come help me carry some boxes. Take Dean and show him where to put it."

Charlie nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

They spent the rest of the afternoon hauling boxes and tables, opening champagne bottles, filling glasses which were meticulously placed on said tables, and of course cleaning the room until the floor was blinking and the huge windows were sided by beautiful deep red velvet curtains without a speck of dust on them.

Dean was actually quite impressed. Sure, this place might look like a dump from the outside, but the inside really was kinda awesome.

_Hold on._

Shouldn't they fix up the garden at least? Why would rich people want to come to something that looked like such a dump? And if they were fine with the dump, then why would the ballroom or whatever this room was need to look perfect?

Dean was completely and utterly lost.

"Dean!"

He looked up from his musing. Charlie was standing right next to him. "Don't go all Harry Potter on me and say you can hear voices from the walls," she said.

"What?"

"Never mind. Ellen says dinner is ready. You can get changed after and join in at the party."

Dean looked at the tables; two-thirds of them were still empty. "What about those?" He nodded. "That's where the banquet will be," she answered. "You don't have to help with that, you're done for the night."

He put down the box he was holding and –

_Flash._

_Music._

_Flash._

_Blue._

_Flash._

~oO0Oo~

When Dean opened his eyes, he immediately felt someone take his hand.

"Dean!"

"Jo?" he grunted. He tried to lift his head to see, put was immediately pushed back by quite small but strong hands while a flashlight shone in his eyes.

"What's the last thing you remember?" _Meg._

"If you don't watch it I'm gonna stick that flashlight where the sun doesn't shine."

"Just answer the question while I do my job."

Dean grunted and fell back into the cushions. "I don't know, I… I think Charlie told me dinner was ready. And there was something – bits of the party? I don't know."

He thought. God, his head hurt. It was as if trying to remember was physically damaging his brain cells.

"There was a name too. Short. I think…"

The flashlight switched to his other eye, and he felt inclined to just swat at it like he would at a fly.

"What happened?"

"My best guess?" Meg responded. "Overexertion when you were still recovering from your man-flu. Missed the party too. Shame. There were some pretty hot people there."

The flashlight disappeared, and Dean immediately tried to find Jo through the spots on his retina. He didn't trust Meg. He'd much rather see what Jo had to say.

"Jo?"

"I wasn't there," she replied. "But Charlie told me what happened. You sort of collapsed. She tried to catch you, but your arm flailed and you accidentally hit her. That's why she's not here right now to see if you're okay. She's still in the kitchen with an ice-pack. She's a little shaken."

Dean swallowed. "Wow. Well tell her I'm sorry, yeah?" Jo nodded. "Will do."

"So what time is it? How long was I out?"

"Well, dinner was ready at six, and it's now three A.M., so that's nine hours. You can probably see why we were so concerned."

"And Charlie's still awake and nursing an ice-pack?"

"The pain is keeping her up," Meg answered. "You probably cracked her cheekbone. I offered her some pain killers and sleeping aids, but she wanted to stay up until you came round."

Dean wanted to sit up, but Meg pushed him down again. "Speaking of meds, I think your man-flu was perhaps a little more serious after all. I'm giving you some antibiotics and a sleeping pill to get you through this night."

"Hell no."

"Dean, please, just take the meds." Jo sounded tired. How could he say no to her?

"Fine," he grumbled. "But only 'cause it's you."

He was offered a glass of water and quickly downed the pills. Meg gave him a little pat on the shoulder which made him want to bite her hand off, but he quickly felt his eyelids growing heavier until the last thing he saw was Jo's worried – no. _Apologetic_ face.

~666~

A/N: Oh great, what's coming next? And what's up with that short name? There's so many short names in this household. Or is it a new name, one that hasn't been mentioned before..? But I'd love to hear your thoughts and speculations! Please, don't be shy, send reviews, or requests, and have a nice day :)


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: A slightly shorter chapter that sort of flies by. Don't fret though, in the next one things will finally be explained! Also a quick reminder that this story does not contain anything supernatural. It is a supernaturallessness AU. (Probably not a real word, but I'm using it anyways.) Hope you enjoy :)

~666~

Dean had never felt worse in his life.

His next few days were filled with feverish sweating, vomiting and horrible dreams to top it all off.

And the dreams really were the worst. He would be exhausted after a day of not being able to keep his food inside of him, and then wouldn't get any rest at night. His dreams would be filled with bright flashes, vivid blue and eventually himself pressing Charlie against the floor and punching her when she started struggling. That was always the moment he woke up, and he was very grateful for it – he really didn't want to know what would happen next.

And though he didn't like to, he did tell Jo about it. She had noticed the look on his face when she washed down his face with a damp cloth and asked him if he had slept alright, and when she asked he couldn't _not_ tell her. She mattered too much to him.

It was usually Jo who came to check up on Dean, but every now and then Meg would show her face as well and write some things down on a clipboard. It was after a week of feeling horrible that she decided to change his meds because this wasn't going anywhere.

A few days ago he was still able to talk to his friend, but now Dean could barely even form a proper thought, never mind put it into words. His dreams got worse, and on top of that he was starting to suffer from deliriums as well. Sometimes Jo's face looked like it was encased in flames which were melting the flesh off her cheek where the scar was, and Meg's eyes were big black orbs whenever he saw the nurse, her face split into an evil grin. The room itself seemed to be made of a thick liquid for 80% of the time, and at random moments his vision would be filled with nothing but blue, heavy blue that looked like coloured crystal cracked by lightning. It scared him to death.

Or maybe he was already dying.

~666~

Dean opened his eyes.

The fact that he was aware of himself doing that was the best thing to happen to him in years. He felt like he was waking up from the most awful sleep in his life. But at least he was alive. And that definitely had to count for something. Especially since there was an IV stuck in his arm.

He looked around and saw a small buzzer next to his head. He pressed it, and when Ellen's voice sounded, he felt a wave of relief for the familiarity of her.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Ellen. Could you maybe…"

What did he want exactly? He had no clue. He sighed.

"Could you just send someone up? Jo, preferably." After a moment of thought he added: "And some food. A burger. And pie."

Ellen laughed softly on the other side of the line. "I'll see what Meg approves of."

Dean swore softly under his breath. Demon bitch would probably give him some lettuce or something. The words _demon bitch_ suddenly brought up mental images from his memory that made him shiver, and he quickly shoved that thought aside. "Thanks, Ellen."

Jo showed up two minutes later with some mashed potatoes and herbal tea. Dean raised his eyebrows, but she shook her head and pointed at the IV, which she now proceeded to remove.

"You haven't had proper food in a while, so you're definitely not getting burgers and pie yet." Dean gave a small pout at this, which made her laugh. "No Dean, I'm not going to be the one to make you throw up."

She put his pillows a little higher so that he could sit up properly. A wave of dizziness went through him when he straightened himself, but other than that he felt okay.

"So, when you say a while, how long have I actually been out for?"

Jo's gaze became cautious. "The party was a month ago."

Dean stared at her.

He stared a little longer.

"Do I have something on my face?"

Wow, and what do you answer to _that_ when there's a big-ass scar there?

"Dean, just tell me what's going on in your head."

He put a hand through his hair and huffed. "Eh, I don't know."

He thought for a moment. "So did I miss anything?"

Jo seemed to exhale in relief that that was all he asked. "Not really, no. Party was a success, by the way. Not that you might be interested. I don't know. But other than that nothing much happened."

"Did Sammy visit me?"

This put the girl on edge again. "He didn't. He was busy, Dean."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure that over the course of a month my little brother didn't even have _one second_ to spare and check in on his dying brother," he spat out. "Why did he even ask me to move in here in the first place!?" He took his plate and smashed it against the wall. Jo seemed torn between comforting Dean and cleaning up the mess. In the end she went for the mess.

"What does he fucking _want_ from me!"

"I don't know, Dean," she said softly. "But he's still your little brother. I'm sure there's a reason for his behaviour."

"There'd better fucking be," Dean muttered. Spots had begun appearing on his retina, a signal that he was about to pass out from overexertion. He wanted to smash something else in frustration, but eventually just went to lie down again.

"I'm sorry Jo," he muttered. She gave a small nod. "It's okay. I get it. I really do."

And with that she left again.

~666~

"… definitely took his mind off things, but we can expect him to go back to his old self, so we should prepare -"

Dean walked into the kitchen. He had been awake for a day now, and he needed some proper food. To his surprise, the only people in the kitchen were Ash and Meg.

"Who's going back to his old self?" Dean asked as he pulled a pop-tart out of the cupboard and started heating it up (oh shut up, that was proper enough for now).

"Sam," Meg answered. "You scared the crap outta him, Dean-o. Took him twice as long to finish his work each day, that's how distracted he was. Why else do you think he didn't come and visit you? Thanks to you he was way behind with his workload. Had to give him chill-pills for it."

Dean felt his blood boil, but he bit the inside of his cheek and ignored her. A sly smile grew on her face. "Aw, big brother Dean afraid he's unloved?"

"I think that's my cue to leave," Ash said, and he quickly slipped out of the kitchen.

Dean set down his plate with a very distinctive _clunk_, then turned around to face the nurse.

"Okay, what is your _problem_ with me?" Meg just tilted her head and smiled. "Nothing," she responded. "It really is nothing personal, cupcake. I just sort of hate people in general. Combine that with a twisted sense of humour and I am the result."

Dean stared at her for a moment. "So can I call you Megabitch?"

She huffed. "Not exactly an intellectual piece of art, I'd say."

"Megabitch it is then."

"Bite me, sweet-cheeks."

"Rather not, I might catch something. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a pop-tart to eat."

Meg left the kitchen with a sulk on her face, and Dean drew it down as a 1-0 victory for himself.

Chewing on his pop-tart he went over what he had overheard again, and what Meg had said. It didn't quite feel right. To keep someone's mind off things was something you said when you wanted to distract them from a bad thing. Which was kind of the opposite of what Meg had been implying. Also, why would they have to prepare for things going back to normal?

Conclusion: Meg was a lying bitch.

Sam was probably fine.

So who would they have been talking about?

Now this might just be Dean's exhausted and paranoid mind, but he had a strange inkling. After all, why would Meg lie about who she was talking about if she wasn't talking about Dean anyway? Yeah, none of this shit made sense.

So if Dean assumed it was about him, then things started to make a little more sense again, though in a very creepy way. Apparently something, presumably the illness, had taken Dean's mind off things, and now they had to prepare for his stubborn investigative nature again (and considering what it had been on before shit went down, that only deepened his suspicions).

Okay, so maybe he had thought about protecting Jo and Ellen by not tearing the mansion apart. But this was just begging him to investigate now.

He walked out of the kitchen, and after forty-five minutes of searching he finally found who he was looking for – Garth. He gave the boy a friendly smile. "Hey, Garth, I was wondering if you could help me with something," he said. "Come on, I'll show you. Seriously, it's nuts."

As expected, the boy followed him with enthusiasm. He only realised he was in trouble when he got dragged into a cupboard. Dean quickly went to stand in front of the door.

"Okay, Garth. I think it's time we talk."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: DEAR READERS, PLEASE REMEMBER THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. This fic contains drug abuse, dub-con/non-con, public and angry smut, and stuff like that. Please, if you can't deal with that, don't read. Look after your own mentality and read at your own discretion. Love you all.

~666~

Garth had turned white as a sheet. "Dean, I can't -"

"Sure you can," Dean interrupted. "Come on, Garth. Surely broom cupboards aren't bugged?"

The boy looked like he was about to faint, but his expression was resolute. "There is nothing I can tell you. I don't know anything, and if I did, I wouldn't tell."

Dean slowly walked forward, using his height as an intimidation factor. He grabbed Garth by the arm to ensure the guy wouldn't slip past him.

"Look Garth," he said, his voice dangerously low, "I don't believe in all that higher purpose crap, but Sam invited me here. I'm here for a reason. And I'm getting sick and tired of being excluded and pushed away and basically knowing fuck-all! So I think it's time you give me something. Anything. I'm sure you won't get into too much trouble for it. In fact, I'm pretty sure I was supposed to have found out eventually."

Garth shook his head. "He wanted to keep you in the dark as long as possible…"

"He? You mean Sam?"

The boy started trembling. "I've said too much…"

Dean sighed. "Okay, look. How about this. You don't tell me what's going on. You just help me figure it out on my own."

"I can't do that."

"I don't mean sneak me into some secret room or anything. All I want to know right now is when and where the next informal party is."

Garth swallowed, but seemed to calm down a little at least. "You know that you probably won't get in, right?"

"I don't care. I want to try. I need to see this for myself."

The boy scratched behind his ear, making it stick out a little further. "Okay," he finally said. "Okay, fine. There's actually one tonight. Downstairs. The stairs that lead there are behind the old servants' quarters."

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks Garth. Really."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Garth looked around as if to check that they really weren't being eavesdropped on, and then finally whispered: "Don't eat or drink _anything_."

Well, that wasn't disconcerting at all.

~666~

That evening, Dean walked down the stairs. He could vaguely hear techno and dance music, and for a moment he wondered what kinds of people came to these parties.

At the bottom of the staircase was a big door. Next to it was Ellen with a clipboard. As soon as she heard footsteps, she looked up.

"Dean?"

"I've invited myself to the party, Ellen. Let me in."

"I can't, Dean."

"Is Sam in there?"

"He is, but he'll already know that you're -"

The door swung open, and for a second the music was a lot louder, but then Sam stepped outside and closed it behind him again, shutting out the sound with it.

"Dean. What are you doing here?"

"How much longer were you planning on keeping me in the dark?"

"A lot longer. And before you say anything, I have my reasons, and they are none of your business."

Dean barked out a laugh. "Yeah, well, those reasons don't really mean shit anymore. I'm here now, so you might as well let me in."

Sam frowned at that, but then he sighed.

"Damn it, Dean. Fine. If you're so desperate to be a part of my world…"

He gave Ellen a small nod. "You're doing excellent, Ellen. Don't think I'm going to hold this against you or anyone else. This screw-up is completely down to Dean."

The woman gave a stern nod back, but Dean could see the relief in her eyes. Damn, Sam even scared _her_. Now that was wrong on so many levels.

The brothers entered the room, and it was as if they had stepped into a completely different building.

The light was dark blue mixed with UV-lights, which gave an eerie purple glow and made white clothes light up like neon signs. Strobes made every move look chopped off, like they were stills in a comic book. The music pressed itself against Dean's ears with a bass that was perfectly in sync with the strobe lights, but it wasn't actually that loud that he couldn't hear what someone was saying right next to him.

"Welcome to the Pit," Sam spoke in his ear.

There were probably about a hundred people crammed into this basement, all swaying their bodies to the music, grinding against each other or in some cases even having sex right there where everyone could see them. There were a few booths where they could get a little bit more privacy, but those who were there were clearly drunk or influenced by God knew what.

"So, what, you run a night club?" Dean asked Sam. "Is that it?"

Sam barked a humourless laugh. "No, Dean. Not exactly."

Suddenly, a kid who didn't look older than eighteen collapsed right in front of them and started having a seizure. Dean immediately fell to his knees and held the kid's body down to keep him from shaking too much and hurting himself. He looked up.

"Sam! Help me!"

Sam took a small mic out of his pocket and spoke into it. "I've got a seizure near the front door. Send Meg."

He looked at Dean. "There. I helped."

Dean gaped at his younger brother. "You've gotta be kidding, right?"

"I don't really see the joke."

Suddenly Meg showed up, giving both boys a little nod. "Well done, Cupcake."

"Bite me, bitch."

She huffed as she stuck a syringe into the kid's arm and waited for the tremors to subside. "Sam, could you help me carry him? I can't exactly do my tests in the middle of a dance floor."

"You're going to do tests on him!?"

"Of course," Sam replied to the nurse. "Dean, please, while I'm gone, don't do anything stupid." He walked away with Meg, carrying the kid between them, and Dean flipped them off.

He got up and looked around. So, a kid having a seizure was normal? What kind of place was this? What was going on?

He suddenly spotted a dark-haired guy weaving through the crowd. Every now and then someone stopped him, and he'd hand them something with a smirk on his face. Dean quickly walked over to him.

"Hey, hey!"

The guy turned around. "Yes?"

"Who are you?"

"My name is Michael. It is a pleasure to meet you – Dean Winchester, isn't it? Have you come to join Sam, make this a family business?"

Dean resisted the urge to punch the guy. "What are you giving them?" he demanded instead.

"That depends," Michael replied. "Are you willing to join the fun?"

He held out his hand; in it was a small vial with a dark red liquid. Whenever the light hit it, it seemed to glow gold.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"This is Sue," Michael answered.

Everything stopped.

_"__She's still in development, but already a beauty."_

_"__Sue is a prototype – but the most beautiful I have ever seen."_

_"__She's an art project. I will not abandon Sue until she has been perfected."_

_Sue._

Sue. That was the name he remembered.

Dean looked up at Michael's face.

"Sure," he said with a dark smile. "I'm new to the fun though, so if you could explain…"

"It's simple," the other guy answered. "It's Russian roulette, the heavenly version of it. The effects are completely random. Everyone will take the hit at midnight. After that, anything can happen. There are no rules, no restrictions, no limits."

"So what if someone goes completely bananas and starts punching his way through the crowd?"

"No restrictions, no limits."

"So what's the catch?"

Michael shot him an incredulous look.

"I'm just going to go ahead and not answer that."

_Right._ Drugs, random effects. Should be kind of self-explanatory. Dean once again resisted the urge to punch Michael and walked away. He checked his watch – 22.47h. He had over an hour to kill before everyone would take the drug. He wondered what was going to happen.

Dean noticed a few people who were being ignored by Michael. They were evenly spread out over the space, probably there to observe the effects of the drug and keep an eye on the place.

He was about to approach one of them, but then Sam emerged from the back room again. Instead of heading over to Dean though, he made a bee-line for a brunette in a tight fuchsia dress. She was stunning; Dean could totally see why Sam would go to her before his own brother. It still pissed him off though.

He walked over with big strides.

"And who might this bitch be?"

"Wow, thanks Dean, really," Sam said. "Was that necessary?"

"Well, so far everyone you've been surrounding yourself with in this den is either a dick or a bitch. So yeah."

"Oh, because you _clearly_ are the shining example of the one true gentleman in the room," the woman said. "And it's Ruby, by the way, to answer your question. Thanks for remembering me."

"Well I'm sorry, but I have never met you in my life."

"Dean doesn't remember the party," Sam explained. "_Someone_ dosed him up."

Dean turned to Ruby. "Hold on – you roofied me!?" She shrugged. "Hey, I'm the face of the company, together with Sam. We are the PR. Of course I slipped the older brother of Sammy a free sample."

"I thought you ran the business," Dean turned to Sam. His little brother nodded. "In a way, yes, I run the business _here_. Sue gets made here, she gets tested here."

"On me, apparently!"

"Oh get over it, it's not like you died or anything," Ruby snapped back.

"I could have died!?"

"No," Sam spoke hastily, "for Christ's sake, let's just – okay, let's go to the back and talk about this. You're in now, so I can't exactly see why I would keep you in the dark any longer."

"I can't exactly see why you kept me in the dark in the first place," Dean muttered, but followed his brother anyway. They went to one of the booths in the back, receiving some slightly shocked expressions from a group of barely legal adults. It was apparently well-known who the big-shots were here.

"So," Sam said as soon as they sat down, "if you have any questions, shoot."

"When did this start?"

"About two years after I left," the younger brother answered. "I got in over my head, met Ruby, we got high together, made up this insane idea, and eventually just went 'fuck it' and decided to give it a go."

Something about Sam's expression didn't seem quite right, and Dean suspected there was more to this story than he was told right now, but he decided to leave that be right now.

"But why?" he asked instead. "You wanted to go to college, didn't you? Become a lawyer?"

"That's what I did at first. Two years of Stanford, two years of building up massive debts. I can tell you those debts have been paid off now."

"So it was for the money?"

"And for the thrill. Trust me, Dean, doing this is actually awesome. I'm sure you'd love it, it's like living inside GTA."

Dean frowned. "If I would love it so much, then why keep me in the dark about everything for so long?"

Within 0.2 seconds Sam shut down completely. "I need you to trust me on this, Dean," he said coldly.

"Eh, no."

"That's all you're gonna get from me. Take it or leave it."

"Come on, man, you really expect me to trust you after all the shit you've pulled? I don't get it, none of this shit makes sense! Why did you pull me in in the first place? Why did you contact me after years of nothing? And why then leave me out?"

"Actually, getting in touch again was my idea," Ruby spoke up.

Dean stared at her. "And why would you care about our shitty relationship?"

"I felt Sam could use the help," she answered. "He told me a lot about you. Somehow I got the idea that with you at our side, we would all be able to really step up our game."

"And remind me again how legal and safe this stuff all is?"

"Very much illegal," Sam answered, "and there's quite a lot of kinks in the cable for Sue. So safe isn't really an appropriate word here either."

Dean barked out a laugh. "And you want me to join? I don't think so." He got up. "I'm out of here. Be glad I'm not calling the cops on your sorry asses."

To his mild surprise, both Sam and Ruby didn't make an effort to call him back. When he was half-way across the room, he glanced over his shoulder. Sam had his lips pressed against Ruby's neck, sucking softly, his hand between her legs under the table. She had her head thrown back, eyes almost completely closed in ecstasy.

"Fucking typical," Dean growled.

He left the room, but when he was about to walk up the stairs, a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"Jesus, Ellen," he panted when he saw who it was. He suddenly panicked. "Don't tell me Jo is in there."

The woman shook her head. "No, none of the staff get involved with the drugs. Meg is the most involved since she does medical exams and things like that."

"She experiments on them."

"Basically."

"So what is it? Why did you stop me?"

"I'm guessing you're not planning on staying any longer?"

Dean frowned. "Ellen, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, Dean. It's just… The atmosphere in this place is often very threatening. I don't exactly like being here most times. But someone has to look out for Sam." Dean smiled. Ellen was still their mother in her own way.

"Please, Dean. Sleep on it. I would be much happier to have you here too. I mean, I've got Garth and Jo and Charlie and Ash as well, who are all relatively normal in their own way, but they feel it too. We try to keep each other sane, but the pressure does get to us all sometimes. Having you here would make it easier."

Dean brushed his head through his hair and sighed. "Ellen…"

"Besides, what do you have left out there to return to?"

Now that was a fair point. A painful one, but true enough. Dean suddenly felt the weight of the little vial in his pocket again.

"What time is it?"

"Ten to twelve."

He stuck his hand in his pocket and closed it around the vial. He didn't have to. He could just stand there and watch everything unfold. He could also just go to bed right now, and leave in the morning to find something else outside of this madness.

The glass seemed to glow in his hand, heavy, present.

Beckoning.

Whispering.

Nagging.

Shouting.

He was here now anyway.

He could just try it. See what it was like. Pull a Sam and just do a major _fuck it_ for one night, then maybe regret it in the morning and move on.

Why not?

He stared at the door.

"I'll sleep on it," he said to Ellen. Then he went back in.

~666~

A/N: Please don't do what I'm making Dean do. Please don't do drugs. I'm sure you're all intelligent individuals who don't need reminding, but I do care about you all, believe it or not. So look after yourself. Anyway, please, you're welcome to leave me comments/reviews and requests. And I hope you have a nice day :)


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Just reminding you all that this fic contains drug abuse/addiction, drugged up sex, dub-con/non-con. I said it last chapter as well, but I'm saying it again because chapter 7 will contain some EXPLICIT smut. Yep, smut inbound. Just a head's up. Enjoy :)

~666~

Now that is was so close to midnight, there were a few more people standing around with clipboards, Meg being one of them. Dean felt uneasy with the idea that he was being watched like a lab rat, but this had been his own decision after all.

It suddenly hit him how stupid he was being. He was about to take drugs, drugs with random effects at that. The last time he took it he apparently lost his memory from it, and he really didn't know what else the stuff had made him do – though he had a feeling that it had to do with his dreams in which he punched and nearly raped Charlie.

He swallowed. This stuff was horrible, this whole stunt was insane. It was the worst thing he could possibly do.

So why had he even considered taking Sue? His hands were sweaty, the little vial with the red substance burning a hole in his pocket. He felt it pulling.

Some dark corner of his thoughts seemed to be opening under the lure of the drug. He could feel it whispering to him, about all the things in his life that had weighed him down – the pressure of his father to follow in his footsteps and join the military someday, or help him in the garage of uncle Bobby otherwise. His dad shaping him while being close-minded and staying blind by choice for what his sons actually wanted – law school, furniture-making, freedom, coming home with both guys as well as girls.

Sam and Dean had often clashed as kids, mostly because Dean wanted to be like his dad, wanted to make John proud, whereas Sam saw how they were practically oppressed and was always pushing against the regime. The fact that they were dragged all over the country for their dad to find a proper job didn't help either.

But they had been able to bond too. The best moments were whenever the boys were staying over at the Roadhouse with Ellen and Jo (and apparently Ash too). They had the freedom to do and say more without their dad finding out.

It was on one of those days that the brothers had confessed to each other that they were bisexual, though Sam was and always would be more comfortable with himself in that sense than Dean. It had been a true milestone in their relationship as brothers.

So when Sam turned his back on his family, on _Dean_, it had hurt. It had hurt so much. And he didn't hear from his little brother again until the day he moved in again.

For a moment it struck him that the timing had been oddly perfect – he had quit his job, he wanted to contact Sam and talk to his little brother, but Sam had beat him to it. It seemed strangely coincidental. But he quickly shoved that thought away. He really didn't want to think about that right now.

There had been so many disappointments, so many setbacks, and they all weighed down on Dean right now.

He pulled the vial out of his pocket and stared at it.

With quitting his job and moving in with Sam he had left most of those setbacks behind. He didn't know right now where he was going to go next, so he was in that little void between big periods in his life, like when high school graduates take a year to travel before going to college. A moment where it didn't matter for Dean what he would do to himself.

"_Thirty seconds to lift-off._"

_Why not?_ What did he have to lose?

_Nothing._

"_Twenty seconds._"

Palms sweating and itching. Swallowing a strange and sudden excess of saliva.

"_Ten seconds._"

_It might be fun._

He kinda wanted it, wanted to know.

_Needed to know._

"_Three… two… one._"

All the lights turned dark red.

"_Lift-off._"

He popped open the vial, poured the contents into his mouth, and swallowed.

~666~

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but everything was… _strange._ And _fascinating_. And _beautiful_.

He didn't really feel like he was doped up though. He went over to Meg.

"Hey, Little Miss Sunshine!" he called over the music. "How long is this supposed to last?"

She raised her eyebrows. "You took Sue?" "Michael offered, I was curious," Dean replied. "Can you answer my question now?"

"The longest it has lasted so far has been thirty-six hours," she replied. "Don't worry if you're not feeling it yet, Cupcake. You're gonna go through a whole range of different types of tripping before the sun goes down again."

Dean gave a nod. It was like the world was filtered; colours had something about them that made everything look like it came from a long-lost civilisation, as if it was all drenched in an ancient power, slightly glowing in a not-quite-visible way.

Movements seemed fluent, slow and hypnotising, despite the strobe lights. It was as if they were underwater, the music muted, the long hair and dresses of girls floating around them in slow-motion. Everything was wrapping itself around Dean like a blanket. And yet he felt wide awake, as if the whole world had slowed down and he was looking at it from a little bubble of normality.

The disorientation of it all hit him in a sudden wave of dizziness, and he quickly walked to the nearest exit and left the Pit.

When he closed the door behind him, he saw that he had stepped into a hallway. It was only now that he realised that this was where Sam and Meg had taken the boy who had collapsed earlier. Dean decided to do some snooping.

That turned out to be a little more difficult than he had hoped though. The strange ancient energy that he had imagined seeing in the Pit had followed him outside and was now wrapping itself around him, seeping into his skin and making him feel incredibly strange. It was the feeling he would sometimes get in a dream, where you felt like you were anchored but hovering and weightless at the same time. He wasn't sure he liked it.

The first room he walked into was an office, but it was empty at the moment. He took a quick look at the papers on the desk, and he could just make out some graphs and numbers that seemed to have to do with money, and perhaps some contracts, but the letters seemed to swim in front of his eyes and flash to Greek or Russian or whatever for some reason, so he quickly gave up before he would get a headache.

The next room turned out to be the med-bay, where the kid from earlier was lying on a bed. To Dean's surprise, there was actually a familiar face there too, one he hadn't seen in quite a while now.

"Charlie? What are you doing here?"

As soon as she saw him, Charlie froze. Her breath became rapid and shallow, and Dean quickly walked to her side. "Hey, Charlie, it's okay, it's me, I'm okay…" But as soon as he reached out to her, she let out a short scream and stumbled backwards.

"Charlie, please…"

She shook her head violently, her long and beautiful red hair floating around her like a cloud of silk. It was the most vivid colour in the room, and it seemed to glow. Dean wondered what it smelled like. If it felt the way it looked. He walked closer…

And he stopped. Charlie's eyes were huge and filled with fear. She was terrified of him.

Dean turned around and ran. He fell against the wall at least twice, but he didn't care – he needed to put as much distance between himself and her. He couldn't traumatise the girl. Not again.

He stumbled into a room that looked like a laboratory. Sitting at one of the sterile tables was an Asian kid who couldn't be older than twenty. His jaw was set as he was listening to a short, balding guy in a suit who was sitting on the corner of the table.

"…just a teensy less damaging, okay darling?" he said in a heavy British accent.

The boy was about to make a snarky remark, but then the older man looked up and saw Dean. "Ah, the second Winchester. Glad to see you've made it through rehab. Little Kevin here had to analyse at least twenty different blood samples from you, isn't that right, darling?"

"I am _not_ your darling."

The man laughed and hopped off the table. "You just keep telling yourself that, my young prince."

He straightened his clothes a little before directing his attention back to Dean. "Crowley, and the pleasure is all mine." He flashed a grin, but that quickly changed into a frown.

"Hold on." He stepped closer, looking suddenly twice as big to Dean, who winced.

"You're tripping!? After all that work to get you clean again?"

"I thought I was ill," Dean brought out hoarsely. Colours had started leaking from their objects and were wrapping themselves around his limbs.

"Well, clearly you were misinformed. That was rehab, withdrawal symptoms. Sue has a pretty intense effect, as you've noticed. Tell me, were you craving more? Is that why you took it? That even after the detox you're still hooked?"

Dean shook his head. Sounds were dripping out of his ears.

"Why Sue? Seems like a random name." It was the only thing he could think of to say.

"SU, handsome. Substance Undetermined. It's as simple as that. Now, if you'll excuse us, while it was… enlightening to meet you, me and darling Kevin here were having a moment. So scramble, if you please."

Dean frowned, but left nevertheless. Kevin seemed young but strong and smart enough to look after himself.

As he walked into the hallway again, his mind somehow managed to wander to the information he had just been given. So he had been going through rehab? And now he was back into Sue. This had been a bad idea. A really shitty idea.

But somehow it didn't feel that bad.

The world had stopped doing the weird shit from earlier, but now seemed to be vibrating with a low hum. And Dean felt good. The vibrating tones reached right into him like when he would be standing next to speakers with the volume on max. They put a boost in his step and gave him a strange energy, a power. The ancient power from earlier had taken him over. He could feel a manic grin spread on his face.

He suddenly collided with a figure and nearly went flying if it wasn't for the hand that shot out and grabbed his wrist. He looked up at the face of a guy in his mid- to late thirties, slightly unshaven, dark brown hair that stood up wildly like he had just had the wildest rollercoaster ride of his life – or just amazing sex. Defined jawline, soft, pink lips. Blue eyes.

The colours seemed to glow and hum and vibrate, but Dean couldn't look away.

"Hello, Dean."

The voice was dark, gravelly, smoky, _hot_.

But the eyes –

_Heavy blue, like crystal cracked by lightning._

So very blue. Straight from his nightmares.

But Dean was frozen in place, like a rabbit in the headlights.

"Who are you?" he managed to bring out.

The guy tilted his head and narrowed his eyes a little. "Castiel."

"So, Castiel, what do you do around here?"

This made the man chuckle. "I am merely an entrepreneur," he answered. His gaze was still locked on Dean's, heavy blue meeting clear green. The air between them felt like a hot summer's day promising a storm – heavy with electricity.

Footsteps sounded, and seconds later Sam appeared around the corner. As soon as he saw the two men, he froze. Castiel finally dropped Dean's wrist, and Dean felt like it was oddly cold and naked without the other's touch.

"Sam," the guy nodded. Sam nodded back. "Castiel." The atmosphere between these two was about as bad as between the stranger and Dean, except it was different – threatening. Dean's drugged up mind compared it to two alpha males sizing each other up.

"If you'll excuse me, I think my brother needs some rest," Sam spoke. Castiel gave another nod. "Of course."

Despite the fact that he was shorter than Sam, Castiel felt like he filled up the entire hallway with his presence. For Dean it was like he could see the lightning from the guy's eyes skitter through the air and form thunder clouds that seemed to press Sam away. It was terrifying, but extremely beautiful.

But Sam dragged him away already, out of the hallway, through the Pit, which had erupted into a mess of sex and violence, past Ellen and up the stairs, all the way back to Dean's bedroom.

And the whole way Dean could feel Castiel's eyes boring into his back.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Warnings: _explicit_ smut, possessiveness, objectifying a bit. Please tell me what you think of this chapter after you've read it. And enjoy :)

~666~

Before he left, Sam asked Dean to lock his door, just in case. Dean obliged, though he wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe he realised that he was starting to go into a state where he wouldn't be able to do much against unwanted visitors.

The world looked like burning plastic; bubbling, curling. Strange colours were rippling under the surface of everything, like luminescent creatures crawling under the skin of the world, trying to burrow their way to the surface. And every now and then blue lightning crackled over the walls. Dean walked up to them and traced the scars of fire with his fingertips, trying to find their heat to confirm their reality.

And everything was spinning around him. He himself was floating in the middle of it, the axis of the planet. He threw his head back and laughed.

God, it felt so good. His own skin felt amazing too, like the blue lightning was a current through his own body as well. Each time he pressed a fingertip against his stomach or his cheek or his arm, the sensation of it would flare, almost visible and bright as fireworks. He laughed again, and with each heaving breath he noticed that the same counted for his lungs.

There was a knock on the door, and Dean swivelled around, causing the whole world to go flying. "Sam?"

"Not really," it sounded. That gravelly voice that made his eardrums vibrate and his blood rush. He needed more of it. Right now.

He opened the door to Castiel. As soon as the man saw him, he grinned. "You are really getting there, aren't you?"

Dean dragged him into his room, hyperaware of the sensation of the fabric in his fist, quickly locking the door behind them. "Sam doesn't want me to let anyone in," he explained. "And I don't think he likes you."

Castiel laughed. _Oh God, that laugh._ "Me and Sam… have our differences," he spoke. "Don't think _for a second_ though that he can command me around like I am one of his little slaves."

His eyes – _blue lightning eyes, _Dean saw the flashes trailing electrifying paths – ran up and down the drugged-up man's body, finally resting on his face. Locking gazes.

"You like me." He sounded so certain, but still as if he was asking confirmation.

Dean suddenly didn't know what to do with himself. He had exchanged like three sentences with this guy. But he couldn't look away from his eyes. He felt a pull, a pull that was scarily similar to the one he felt earlier from Sue. A need he never knew before.

"I need you."

The guy was suddenly right in Dean's face, invading his personal space, absorbing his entire world with his presence. His eyes were dark and hooded, his pupils dilated.

"Can you feel the electricity?" he muttered. He raised his hand to Dean's arm and kept it mere millimetres from his skin, running it up and down the length of it.

Yes, Dean could feel it. The hairs on his arm stood up straight. He could see an electric blue current following Castiel's hand, glowing under his almost-touch. His heartbeat was thrumming in his ears, and right now he felt like only one thing could shut out that noise, could satiate his need.

He grabbed Castiel's arm. "I need you," he said again, putting more urgency into his voice.

_Oh, that touch, sweet contact, electrifying him, frying his nervous system…_

Castiel tilted his head a little, his gaze cold and devouring Dean's soul at the same time. "How often have you taken Sue?"

"My second time," Dean answered. Couldn't the guy just skip the talking and get to him already? Didn't he hear Dean's pleads?

"And have you had sex before during your trip?"

"No."

Castiel's cold and calculating look disappeared and was replaced by a dark grin. "Then you are in for the ride of your life."

He took Dean's face in his hands and pressed their lips together.

Dean was blown to pieces.

Fire in all colours erupted from their lips, roaring around them, flames rising sky-high, burning his skin. Only one way to put out the flames before they consumed his flesh.

It was a frenzy of ripping off clothes and getting as much skin-on-skin contact as possible, Dean's mouth pressing against every bit of nakedness he came upon. The world seemed so _loud_, a cacophony of heartbeats and ragged breaths, wet sounds of lips on skin and it all slowly being joined by ever-growing moans and groans.

When they were finally both completely naked, Castiel, to Dean's great fury, took a step back. "So beautiful like this," he said softly, "gold, green, freckles, pupils blown, hair -"

With a growl Dean was on him, shutting him up with a sloppy kiss, thrusting his tongue into the other man's mouth. He groaned deeply as Castiel reciprocated, tasting every corner of his mouth while resolutely pushing him to the bed.

"Gonna make you feel it, Dean," the shorter man growled, "gonna make you fly. Make you soar."

He pressed his naked body against Dean's, already blowing the man's mind with just that, and he knew it. He'd seen the effect of Sue, all the different effects, had always been that unseen bystander in the corner that observed everything from a distance and knew more than the actual junkies, almost knew more than Meg even.

He knew exactly the power he had over Dean right now.

And though sex was always amazing, it was that power, the desperation that those under the influence of the Red Woman had for his touch, the begging, the need, the _power_, what made his pupils dilate until there was barely anything left visible of that electric blue, until he looked possessed. Drunk on power. On dominance. On sex.

There was a reason Castiel would never take Sue himself. And it was very simple – he didn't need it. He didn't want it. And there was no-one stupid enough to slip it to him, nothing to corrupt him to feel her lure. He had everything he wanted right here.

He loomed over Dean, could see the need in his eyes, the desperation. So perfect. Sue turned humans into Play-Doh, his to knead and play with. And this latest little toy wasn't just Sam's older brother, forbidden by the big guy for anyone to touch, but also _staggeringly beautiful_.

Castiel leaned in, and Dean's eyes widened. So hyped up, the younger man was so responsive. Castiel grinned and licked the seam of Dean's lips. Not coaxing, not suggesting, not even tasting. Playing. _Marking._ And Dean couldn't help but gasp.

Castiel moved down to suck on his plaything's neck, fully intending on leaving a beautiful bruise. Sam and his rules could go to hell, they meant nothing to him. He was going to mark Dean as his own for everyone to see.

Dean arched up with a hoarse groan, forcing out his name, or as much as he managed to get out – "C- Cas…"

The movement brought both men's erections back to attention again, rubbing against each other and trailing precome everywhere. Castiel chuckled. "You seem very eager," he remarked, his mouth pressed against twitching muscles.

"Cas!"

"I'm going to need the magic word, Dean," Castiel said warningly.

For a moment it was silent, and the shorter man let his fingers trail over the other's cock ever so lightly, drawing a hoarse shout from him. The first time was always the most intense. Perhaps that was why they kept demanding more and more, trying desperately to find that first fire again.

"Please!"

With a growl Castiel plunged his head down and bit hard into the base of Dean's neck. This made the younger man actually scream, but his cock pulsed out precome, letting Castiel know it was still pleasurable.

But if he was honest, he really didn't care. What he _did_ care about was leaving a mark in the shape of a C, his own mark, known by everyone who needed to know. Personalised. Claimed. _Castiel's to play with until he grew bored again._ If Dean knew what had happened to Castiel's previous disregarded toys…

But Castiel already knew that he was going to keep this one for quite a while. He felt something with this one. A thrill that he hadn't felt in a while.

He looked up, and his blue gaze locked Dean's crazed green. It nearly stopped his breath. Nearly.

He reached up again and kissed the younger man deeply, feeling him moan and squirm underneath. He huffed out a laugh. Always so impatient. But he _had_ pleaded. And so Castiel finally went down on him. Second time on Sue, first time sex with her in his system. Castiel saw it as his duty to truly and utterly blow Dean's mind.

He propped up the man's legs and spread them a little, bringing his cock on perfect display as well as bringing his hole into view. Two beautiful things, ripe for the taking. _His for the taking._

Dean felt the tip of a tongue draw a lazy stripe up his cock, causing him to actually _mewl_ and buck his hips. This was torture of the sweetest form, feeling the electricity spark through his dick while the rest of his body was on fire, begging for touch, for attention, _anything_. He brought up his own hands to chase the flames dancing over his skin, but it wasn't enough.

"Pl- Cas, _please!_" The little nickname now all he could say, not even bothering anymore with the rest of the man's name.

Castiel chuckled again. He reached up his hands and splayed them out on Dean's stomach, feeling the heated skin and rolling abs as the man arched into his touch. He then brought his head down, and in one smooth move took Dean almost completely into his mouth.

All Dean's muscles locked up, his breath halted, he could swear even his heart gave an achingly painful squeeze before stopping. In fact, the entire world had stopped. Dust particles suspended in the air next to him, sweat glistening but frozen in their descent down his chest and hips, even the flames on his skin frozen.

It lasted a lifetime.

Then, suddenly, air rushed back into his lungs again. His hips bucked upwards and he frantically grabbed Castiel's hair, trying to pull him off, _too much stimulation_, desperately hold him in place and push him down to take more of his cock down his throat, _not enough stimulation!_ How could he not have come yet?

And Castiel opened his throat, taking more down, his tongue lapping and swirling while his cheeks were hollowing and he sucked and swallowed and Dean's mind went white, everything went white, blinding white.

But even now it wasn't over. He could actually feel the drugs racing through his blood, burning in his veins, keeping him flying, and Castiel raising that to the level of soaring. It was the drugs he felt, what heightened his sensations. But the hormones were something else. Just slightly below that. Pure pleasure while the orgasm still took its sweet time.

That was almost too perfect to be a random effect.

But who cared? All thought and awareness of anything but _Cas_ flew out the window as the man's mouth left his dick, exposing it to cold air that was doing nothing to lower his temperature.

And then, suddenly, that tongue was back. Circling his entrance.

Dean arched his back as he cried out. "_Cas!_"

Cas laughed hoarsely, his voice even more wrecked than normal by the throat-fucking of a second ago.

"I've played with men and women alike," he spoke, "so many even in this state refusing many things and wanting none of it, but _you_, Dean, you want it all, desperate, such a little slut, my personal man-whore…"

Dean nodded in his delirium. "Yes, Cas, all yours, want it all, make me yours, give it all, _please_…"

Castiel's tongue lapped at his hole, circled it, _breached it_. Stretching it up nicely.

Dean's eyes rolled back as the orgasm suddenly rushed in, but as he was about to erupt and come all over his own stomach, the other man grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed.

"Not until I tell you to," he growled. "Play nice, Dean, or we won't play at all."

Dean nodded, tears streaming from his eyes as he tried, he tried so hard. But he was drugged up and his body wasn't as perfectly under his control as it was normally and it was _fucking difficult_.

"Dean?" A warning.

"'M good," he huffed out after a minute. His own voice was starting to sound like Castiel's.

"Good boy," Castiel muttered before diving back into the younger man's ass.

Dean knew that if he would give even an inch now, he would lose it. So he kept his body locked up, his muscles shaking with effort, but it was working. Everything was spinning though; he could feel the G-forces of the Earth nearly throwing him off the planet, hurtling through space. His eyes rolled further back until there was nothing but white. Sweat poured down his body. The only proof of his delirium still being joyful was his cock, pulsing and thick and so full of blood it was dark red. And all the while Castiel was opening him up, preparing him for even more to come.

And then, finally, pressure, a slight burn that was magnified a thousandfold but pressure, _sweet perfect pressure filling a hole that had never been there before tonight, a hole created just for Castiel – or by Castiel?_

Dean clamped down on it, and Castiel grunted. "Dean," he warned, and the younger man mewled in the realisation of his mistake. The sheets were properly getting soaked with sweat, precome, lube, and his tears, which were still streaming down past his temples.

But _thank the gods_ Castiel saw his guilt and pain, and leaned in, pressure increasing with it, to give him a small kiss on the lips. "Nearly there, Dean," he muttered in his voice that rolled like thunder in Dean's ears. "You're doing really well. Nearly there."

And Dean just nodded, crying, whispering "_please_" over and over again, seeing each movement deep inside him flashing like electric blue fireworks behind his eyelids, filling his vision, his world, until there was nothing but _Castiel_.

The older man held his stare, blue locking with green, as he finally, _finally_, started rolling his hips, bucking, canting, thrusting.

_Sparks and flashes burning Dean, sizzling in his mind, on his retina, everywhere._ He gasped and arched upward as a spot inside him was struck. If he thought the world was on fire earlier, then this was the heart of a star, of an atomic bomb burning everything to nothing. It didn't hurt – it – there was no explanation, no words to describe it. Just fire and lightning and _Jesus fucking Christ ALIVE_.

Each breath that came out of Dean was like cloth being ripped, air getting torn from his lungs. No groans, no moans, no mewls. Just those ragged breaths, sound itself getting torn apart. They were only joined by the obscene sounds of wet skin slapping on skin – for Castiel made no sounds either apart from his own soft but ragged breaths.

"Dean," the blessed words came, "I'm going to come. I want you to clamp down on me, now, Dean. Milk me dry. My cockslut."

Thrust.

"Mine."

Thrust.

"Mine."

Thrust.

Guttural moan – "_Mine._"

And Dean could feel it, the hot sticky wetness inside him, the sensation of it shot up through his body. And finally he was allowed to let go. He threw his head back and _screamed_.

The electric blue glowed brighter and brighter until it was white.

Everything turned white.

Dean kept screaming.

Then everything turned black.

~666~

Sam's empty gaze was on the monitor that showed his brother unconscious on his own bed, covered in his own come. He watched without emotion as Castiel pulled out of his older brother, gave another soft bite to accentuate the already made mark, and walked up to the camera, completely naked, his penis going soft again, glistening with saliva and his own spend.

He stared out from the screen, straight at Sam, his gaze as cold as the Winchester's.

And he laughed.

Sam finally turned away, though his face was still expressionless.

"Ash, delete the footage."

"Yes boss."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Asghdkfjsdf Diana your review thank you so so much! You melt my heart, you really do. If you like this story, maybe you're interested in reading my other big Spn fic, _Purity regained_? Looking back, I actually realise there's quite a few little parrallels with this one. (It's Wincestiel though, where this story is not.) It contains some recommendations of other good fics in a few author's notes. You don't have to read it, of course. Just an idea. But yeah, love you so much for your kind words :) They really help, especially after such a smutty chapter.. Anyway, chapter 8 now! Enjoy :)

~666~

The world was colourless.

It was dark.

Tasteless.

Without smell.

Blurred.

Muffled.

Dean blinked a few times, but it didn't make much of a difference. One thing he did notice though, was a deep ache setting in his bones, an ache that was strongest in his ass.

It took him a second of wading through the memories that were a blur, a whirlwind of colour and fire roaring in his mind, but then he finally pulled out the image of a face. Tussled dark hair, electric blue eyes staring into his soul. A voice like thunder rumbling in the distance to match his eyes.

And naked skin.

Sweat.

Crying.

A bite? He reached for his neck and winced when a sharp stab of pain hit him. He could trace the mark. Yeah. Definitely a bite.

So much naked skin, stimulation, fullness, pounding.

And he remembered soaring through space. He remembered his own screams getting ripped from him in the best orgasm of his life. Getting lifted up by the colours and getting sling-shotted into the atmosphere, beyond the atmosphere, beyond the moon. He wouldn't be surprised if someone told him he had landed in the nuclear heart of the sun.

It would explain why everything felt so cold and dead now.

It took Dean a bit more digging into his brain to drag up a name to match these sensations, but then he had it.

_Castiel._

Or was it Sue?

No, Sue was the drug.

_FUCK._

He jumped out of bed, which was definitely a mistake, because the room started spinning madly. The door of the room opened immediately, and Ellen came rushing in to catch him before he fell over and hit his head on the bedpost.

"I took drugs, Ellen," Dean managed to bring out between harsh breaths. The woman nodded sternly. "I know, Dean. Now let's get you back on that bed."

Once he was properly sat down again, Dean frowned. "How do you know?"

"Sam asked me to keep an eye on you when you woke up. He told me what happened."

For a split second Dean wondered if that included his visit from Castiel. He wondered how much Sam knew about that. He quickly shook off the thoughts though.

"Does Jo know?"

"No," Ellen answered to his relief. "Out of the staff you met officially, it's me, Meg, Ash and Charlie who know about the fact that there are things going on in this house involving drugs. Ash keeps an eye on the CCTV footage, so that's how he knows, but Charlie only knows that there's dodgy things going on because she occasionally helps out in the med-bay. Garth has his suspicions of course, but he really has no idea."

She handed him a glass of water, which he downed within seconds.

"So what's going to happen to me now?" Dean asked as he gave Ellen back the glass. She let out a small sigh. It sounded so foreign from her.

"I don't know," she admitted. "The detox takes weeks. If you still want to leave, you can, but you'll have to face it on your own. You can also stay here, go through the withdrawal, and leave afterwards."

She aimed her gaze directly at Dean, and he felt himself shrink away from it a little, though its effect was nowhere near as powerful as Castiel's. "Dean, what have you done?"

He dropped his gaze. He knew her well, and he realised what she wasn't saying. He had painted himself into a corner. Dean had caught a glimpse of the life in this house, and he understood why Ellen wanted to keep him around. He'd be a relief next to the stressful atmosphere Sam seemed to create. But if he wanted to stay and be useful right now, then he couldn't go through the withdrawal. He had to stay alert.

And for that he needed to continue taking Sue.

That was something Ellen could never voice, she could never actually ask Dean to take drugs for her.

So Dean had three options. None of them seemed very appealing.

Although…

He had soared.

He leaned in and kissed Ellen on her forehead. "Don't worry, Ellen. I'm staying."

She cast him a sombre smile as she left the room, and he gave a little nod back.

He was determined to keep his mind from asking whether he did it for Ellen or for Sue.

~666~

As Dean walked to the kitchen, he could hear voices. For a moment he thought about eavesdropping again, but that idea was ruined when the door opened and he found himself face to face with Jo.

"Dean!"

"Hey Jo," he smiled weakly.

God, he felt shitty. Everything was aching and burning inside of him, but his dulled down senses made it feel a little less prominent. It did mean though that the entire world, including his own thoughts, there was a haze on it which he couldn't shake, like water clogging up his ears. Jo seemed to notice some of his discomfort.

"Are you hung-over?" she asked, crossing her arms but keeping a glint in her eye.

"Something like that, yeah," Dean huffed in response. "Can I get breakfast now?"

She stepped aside while rolling her eyes. "Dean, it's half past two. You're getting a late lunch."

He groaned as he sat down at the small table. "Figures." This made Jo laugh, and the sound of it brought a smile to Dean's face. "So, what does a guy have to do to get some food around here?"

"How about make it himself?" the girl retorted. "If you're gonna stick around, you'd just as well learn the ins and outs of the kitchen."

The door opened before Dean could come up with a clever comeback, and Garth came walking in, panting as he sat down next to Dean. "Damn, the basement is a _mess_! I've been cleaning it up for the past three hours now and I'm still not done! So, what's for lunch?"

Jo threw up her arms and left the kitchen with a dramatic "Men!", leaving Garth looking very puzzled and Dean laughing. Garth seemed to understand quite quickly though. He got up and walked over to the counter.

"Anything I can make you, Dean?"

The Winchester bit his lip, contemplating. "Well, anything for a hangover would do," he eventually said.

"Two omelettes with extra bacon and bread, coming up!"

It turned out that Garth actually made an excellent breakfast. Dean thanked the boy excessively. After all, he'd practically assaulted him yesterday. Clearly Garth just had a very big heart and was big on forgiveness.

The breakfast had to get spoiled of course, by none other than head nurse Megabitch.

"Morning, sunshine. How did you sleep?"

"Like a baby," he snapped back. He would've said something harsher, but he felt inclined to watch his language with Garth around for some reason. Meg just snorted. "Oh I'm sure," she commented.

She sat down next to him and grabbed his face. "Hey, what the hell!?" Dean exclaimed as she shone a flashlight into his eyes.

"How are you feeling? Good? Bad? Dizzy? Ill?"

Garth frowned. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean waved it away. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, Garth. I had a few drinks too many."

"So you drank something?"

"Hey, if you're afraid someone spiked my drink, they didn't, okay? People are smarter than that. I'm Dean Winchester, I'm the boss' older brother, they're not just gonna spike my drink."

Garth gave him another worried glance, but Dean waved him away again. "Garth, I'm fine! Now go back to what you were doing before Ellen comes after you." Upon hearing this the boy nodded and quickly fled the scene.

Dean watched him go and then tried to swat Meg's hand away. "Look, I appreciate your concern…"

"Oh, this ain't concern, cupcake, this is gathering data. You're a test subject."

"Fuck you."

"No thank you, God knows what you caught last night."

Dean felt himself turn bright red, but he kept his comments to himself. Meg just took that as a confirmation and laughed. "Relax, cupcake. It's just sex. Though since you were drugged up, I'm guessing you didn't use protection?"

Dean furiously pulled his face from her grasp. "None of your goddamn business."

"Actually, that is exactly my business. Nurse, remember? Now, you might not like me, but I do kinda like my job. Discretion is just another part of it. So do you want me to run some tests to be sure?"

He bit his lip. Should he? Who knew how many people that guy had screwed. "Fine," he spat.

"Well then, come by at the med-bay tomorrow, we'll do the stuff we need to do." She got up. "Any more questions?"

"Yes," he suddenly realised. "How long before I start getting withdrawal symptoms? Just so I know how long I can go without Sue while still being able to function."

Meg gave a small nod as she put her stuff into her bag. "About a week," she answered, "though that period gets shorter the longer you take the drug."

Dean frowned. "But I was ill immediately after the party last time."

"Yeah," she said while managing to look casually guilty, "that's 'cause I gave you stuff that made you ill. It wasn't until after a week when you started going through withdrawal."

"_What!?_"

"Hey, orders from the boss," she said with a lazy smile. "I'm just doing what I'm told. You were too nosy, and you were going to feel ill anyway, so Sam thought it was easier this way to keep you in the dark a little longer."

Dean's clouded mind became sharper for a moment. "_Sam?_ _Sam_ gave the order for you to fucking _poison_ me!?"

They were interrupted by the door opening again. _Oh, speak of the devil._

Dean walked over to his little brother and punched him square in the jaw.

"What the hell, Dean!?"

"No, Sam, don't you fucking dare!" Dean roared at the other Winchester. "Ever since I came here you've been fucking me up in ways that I never thought you were capable of! Your girlfriend drugs me _for the giggles_, your nurse _poisons_ me -"

"For your own good!"

"No, Sam, that's not an excuse you get to make! You're my little brother! My whole life it was me looking after you! And I come here and you do _this_ to me!? _This!_ I'm your _brother_, Sammy! Don't you remember me? Don't you remember us? What we've been through together? Don't you remember everything that lies behind us?"

Sam straightened his back, his gaze cold. "Of course I remember, Dean. But you've said it beautifully – that lies behind us. Things have changed. I'm doing what I think is best. I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean. I know exactly what I'm doing. And I know this is going to sound like utter bullshit, but you're going to have to trust me, my actions. I'm doing them for a good reason."

Dean felt like punching his little brother again, knock some sense into him. But even John had never beaten them for the sake of that, he had only ever laid his hands on his boys when he snapped, which had rarely happened. And Dean couldn't do that to Sam. Not even to this Sam. He took care of his little brother. The right way.

"You want me to trust you, Sam, but to me it just looks like you've lost your fucking mind. That bitch, Ruby, she brainwashed you."

Sam sighed. "Look, I can see perfectly clearly the influence people around me have, or try to have, on me."

"I don't think you do -"

The younger brother held up his hand. "I do. I can see it all. Trust me, Dean. Just roll with it. You'll get what I'm playing at eventually. I can't explain, but eventually, you _will_ get it. It's all politics. Please. I'm not asking for much. Just… just trust me. Just roll with it."

Dean felt all his energy drain, his temples throbbing a little. He looked at his little brother for a moment, then finally let out a long sigh. "Okay. _Okay._ Last chance. _The last one_, you hear me?"

Sam nodded. It was only because Dean knew him so well that he saw the tiniest bit of relief seeping through his cold mask.

Sam ran his hand through his hair, which was growing too long again like always. The familiarity of the gesture made Dean smile just a little. "Eh, anyway, what I came here for… Oh yeah. I was going to ask you to join Meg as she goes out for a supply run."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Dude, online orders."

Sam shook his head. "Those are traced."

Oh. So it was that kind of a supply errand.

"Well, I'm not a nurse-sitter. Can't you do it yourself?"

"Sitting right here, you know."

"Shut up, Meg."

It was now Sam's turn to raise his eyebrows, his gaze cold again. "No, Dean, I'm asking _you_ to go. Make yourself useful."

"But why can't you do it?"

"Because I have better stuff to do." And with that he left.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Dean groaned. He turned to the nurse, who was twirling an injection needle between her fingers with a bored expression on her face.

"So what do you say, cupcake? Ready for a road trip?"

Dean groaned inwardly. Oh, this was going to be _hell_.

~666~

A/N: Don't be afraid to leave a little comment or even a request! I'm uploading a little series of Destiel one-shots called _A fever you can't sweat out_ as well, and I'd love you guys if you would send me situations you'd like to see the boys in! (Teaser: chapter 3 will be a genderbender ;) ) Seriously though, that particular fic will only stay up and running with requests and little ideas!Don't be shy, send me anything, I'll only love you for it :) So review, request, and most importantly have a nice day :)


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Wow, big-ass writing hiatus for my multichapter fics. My sincerest apologies. Big thank you to VampirePrinssess for the review, they are all loved and cherished :) Sadly though my writing won't go back to being as regular as it was before the holidays (yet). I'm really busy at the moment... But you're not here for me, you're here for my story! So onward! And enjoy :)

~666~

Dean was sitting behind the wheel of his Baby, gritting his teeth. So far Meg hadn't really seemed to be able to understand the concept of "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole" and had actually _turned the radio off_. Combining the anger over that with the fact that his ass was incredibly fucking sore but refusing to let the nurse take the wheel so he could lie down on the back seat, Dean was just about ready to punch someone. Hard. Preferably Meg.

"Take the next exit off the highway."

"Why don't _you_ take the fucking exit," Dean muttered under his breath. Meg just raised her eyebrows and let out an amused huff.

"What are you, on your period? Haven't seen you so prickly yet. What's eating at you?"

Dean took the exit and quickly pulled over the Impala. He then turned to the nurse, wincing at the sudden movement. "You wanna know what's eating at me? You are. You and this whole fucking business. That Ruby bitch. The drugs. And I wanna be angry at Sam too, but I can't! Because even now I still feel like it's not his fault, not completely. But he's up to his armpits in this pile of shit, and now I'm actually joining him of my own free will. What the fuck is even wrong with me!? And _you_ are in no way helping my mood!"

Meg tilted her head a little. "What did you do? You're in pain, Dean. Did you injure yourself?"

"I – what?"

"Dean. _I'm a nurse._ Will you for once just trust me and let me do my job."

Dean felt himself blush. Damn it, he hadn't blushed since high school. This was embarrassing.

_But why though?_ He'd been aware of the fact that he was bi for almost half his life now.

He had never been bottom before though.

"I had sex," he answered while trying to avoid Meg's gaze.

"Uhuh. And? Did she ask you to be more flexible than you really are?"

Dean's anger was suddenly gone.

She didn't know.

She actually didn't know.

This probably meant that there weren't rumours going around, that it wasn't common knowledge yet who Dean had fucked.

"Not that kind of sex."

Meg stared at him blankly for a moment, but then it dawned on her. "Oh really? I wouldn't have guessed."

Dean rolled his eyes, but kept avoiding her gaze.

"So did you get enough prep?"

"Oh my _God_, seriously, I'm fine! I took it up the ass, I didn't break in half! Maybe the prep could've been better, yeah, but honestly, it's _fine_. You never done anal before?"

This actually managed to make Meg laugh. "Of course I did, Cupcake," she replied. "But good to know that you weren't split in half. I can still check for injuries once we arrive at the motel if you want…"

Dean threw up his hands. "Yeah, no, it's fine. My ass is fine. Bruised but fine. Please. No."

Meg gave another chuckle. "Okay, well, it still sounds to me like it was a rough night. Any other injuries I might need to check out?"

Dean finally looked at her, giving her a pissed-off frown. "You're just looking for excuses to see me naked."

She shrugged. "Well, I can't deny that you're a hot little stud muffin, but it really is just the nurse thing. So, injuries?"

Dean swallowed. He remembered the bite mark. That couldn't be sanitary. "Okay, I've got a… a wound in my neck. You can check that out."

"Thanks." She gave him a sweet smile.

"Weird ass workaholic."

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"Just shut up and give directions."

"I hope you realise that's kind of contradictive?"

"_Just give the damn directions._"

~666~

"Bend over."

"Jesus, I told you, _no!_"

"Look, Cupcake, I'm doing this for your own good. Your neck isn't bothering you at the moment. Your ass is. And your shifting and wincing is grinding my gears. So, pretty please. _Bend. Over._"

Dean was ready to kill the bitch.

He pulled down his pants and turned around, then placed his hands on the bedpost and bent over. He jumped a little when two gloved hands touched his cheeks, but bit his lip and tried his best to keep himself in check. He was starting to understand why horses tended to kick someone standing behind them.

There was a bit of surprisingly gentle touching, which still hurt like a bitch. Last night really _had_ been rough. For a second the image of two vivid blue eyes popped up on his retina, and Dean actually had to keep himself from sucking in a breath at that.

"So what's the damage?"

"Outer damage could be worse, few little bits of tearing and quite a bit of bruising, but nothing infected or in danger of getting infected. You're safe to do a number two without giving yourself sepsis and dying. Now, I just need to check under the hood…"

"Oh _hell no!_" Dean was about to pull away, but the nurse grabbed him by his hips and he hissed in sudden pain. "I could easily slip you some weird drug, Cupcake. I've got access to a whole range of things, loads of them untested. So what do you say? Are you going to cooperate?"

"You're a demented bitch."

"It's for your own good."

Dean barked out a laugh at that. "Yeah right, I'm sure. You love your job _way_ too much, you know that?"

"Shut up and relax your sphincter."

Now those were words Dean hoped not to hear from Meg ever again.

A second later he felt a few lubed-up fingers slip in. He hissed again at the burn and the chilly substance, but tried to relax as much as possible.

After about half a minute she carefully pulled out again. "You seem okay," she said calmly as she took off the glove and tossed it in the bin.

Dean pulled up his pants with a glare. "Fucking told you so," he muttered.

"Okay, now let's check out that wound in your neck."

He pulled the collar of his plaid shirt down to reveal the crescent-shaped bite mark. It actually stung, but it was less noticeable than his ass, on which he had been sitting for the past five hours.

Meg didn't move.

"Hey, nurse," Dean snapped, "at least tell me if it'll get infected."

Still no response.

"Meg?"

Her gaze went up to meet his.

"You seriously fucked up."

Dean let go of his collar, his arm falling down by his side.

"Meg, tell me. What did I do?"

She seemed to come to her senses then. "That looks fine, probably cleaned while you were unconscious. Office hours are over."

"Meg!"

But the nurse ignored him. She just grabbed her coat and the room key. "I'm getting us burgers and fries. Don't go anywhere."

Dean wasn't exactly planning to. Meg owed him an explanation.

~666~

"So, how long will this road trip last?" Dean asked as Meg came walking back into the motel room. She dumped her stuff on the table and brushed right past him on her way to the bathroom. "Tomorrow we do business, the morning after we go back," she answered. "Dinner is served, by the way. Enjoy." And with that she slammed the door closed.

Dean sent it a furious glare, but decided to eat his burger first before interrogating her. He could hear the shower turning on. Maybe he was just being ridiculous, but he actually _hated_ Meg. With a passion. The only thing that kept her from sharing the Bitch trophy with Ruby was her professionalism. She probably was an amazing nurse. She just happened to have no problem with experimenting on people. And now everything she did, whether it was taking a shower or talking or even _breathing_, made Dean want to punch her hard.

He ate the meal in silence, and when she re-emerged from the bathroom with her hair in a towel, he tossed his napkin and turned towards her. "So, what's up with the bite-mark?"

Meg sighed. "What have you been told?"

"The guy called himself an entrepreneur. He said he and Sam have their differences, but Sam can't order him around."

"Oh I bet he said that," Meg scoffed. "And what did Sam tell you about him?"

Dean frowned. "Nothing. Never even mentioned his existence."

"Yeah, you're still new to the business, so that doesn't surprise me either," the nurse responded. "Look, if Sam didn't say anything, then neither will I. I'm just gonna tell you one thing: stay away from Castiel."

"Why!? Seriously, I'm getting sick and tired of people telling me squat!"

Meg shook her head. "Just follow the damn advice, Cupcake. The guy's dangerous. Seriously dangerous."

"Yeah, well, what if I don't want to stay away?" Dean spat back. "Don't know what I'm supposed to be scared of, after all."

Meg actually face-palmed at this.

"Look, Dean," she snapped. There was a sudden fire in her eyes; it looked foreign on her face, and fucking terrifying. "I get it. Why listen to Meg, right? What does she know better than Dean? Well I know a fuckload more. So if you refuse to stop with Castiel, then at least try to see him as little as possible."

"Why would you care?" Dean hissed.

"Because Sam will have my hide if you die."

_If you die._

"Okay fine," Dean grumbled. "Don't even dare to say I owe you one, though."

"As if I'd ever need your help."

"Stuff it, bitch."

Meg rolled her eyes, then went back to the bags she put on the table. "Do you know how to use a gun?"

"Excuse me?" Dean spluttered.

"A gun, sunshine."

She placed a revolver on the table, next to Dean's food. He raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"What did you think I brought you along for, charades? You're my back-up, genius. Now, _can you use a gun?_"

Dean picked up the weapon and checked the magazine. "Magnum 357," he stated, "six bullets mag." He clicked it closed again. "Dad used to take me and Sam hunting. Sam would be the one to sit by the side reading while dad taught me everything he knew about guns."

He looked up at the nurse, who looked a bit more relieved. "Not the most effective gun in a gunfight, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "It's the first thing I could get my hands on right now. You're gonna have to do with this until we get back. I'm sure Sam's got an arsenal for you to pick from stashed away somewhere in that house."

Dean nodded weakly. Geez, Sam hadn't been kidding when he mentioned GtA. "So what exactly can I expect from tomorrow?"

"Well, I'll be doing the negotiating, you're just there to look pretty," Meg answered nonchalantly. "If everything goes well, we'll be done before you know it."

"So why are you doing it like this?" Dean asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you need protection, you're probably getting big batches, right? So why not just go small and go often?"

"Because," she replied, "we need big batches. We're not just producing, we're still mixing the ingredients and experimenting with the stuff. The recipe isn't finished yet, if you like. So we need as much as we can get. And we don't have the time or manpower to 'go small and often'."

"So you're the only one getting ingredients?" Dean frowned.

"I didn't say that. There's just less people going out and getting the stuff we need. Ash is one of them -"

"I thought Ash just did security?"

Meg snorted. "All day, every day? Not really. His life is not _that_ bad."

"But Ellen said -"

"Yeah, Ellen doesn't know everything, Dean. For example, she doesn't realise how much Jo knows about what's going on."

This shut Dean up for a moment.

"How much _does_ she know?" he then asked tentatively.

"She and Charlie talk," Meg shrugged. "And sometimes I talk to her too. She knew I was slipping you poison."

Dean's mouth went dry.

Jo had known.

He couldn't even trust her.

"Why didn't she say?"

"Because Jo is smart. She knows what to keep to herself if she wants to stay in one piece."

_Jesus._ Okay. Dean had seriously underestimated the stress people were under in this household.

"So," he said croakily and he quickly cleared his throat, "so who else is an errand boy? What do people do in the business? Who is who?"

Meg's expression softened again. "Well, Zachariah likes to pretend he's important and dangerous, but in fact he's just a pathetic low-life dick, so it's always funny to see his face when he gets sent out for errands. He knows what he's doing though."

"Zachariah?"

"Balding guy in a suit."

Dean was pretty sure he had seen the man in the Pit, looking over the crowd with a clip-board in his hand. "Yeah, I think I've seen his face."

Meg nodded. "There's Crowley, who's awesome with numbers and contracts and loopholes. He usually sets up the shopping lists for us, with help from Kevin, of course. They're…"

"Yeah, I've met them," Dean interrupted.

"Okay. Well, Crowley spends most of his spare time in the lab, pestering Kevin, pushing him around, you know. I'm pretty sure he has the hots for the kid. Personally, I'm a bit grossed out by it, but Kevin doesn't seem to put up much of a fight, and they work they deliver is fine, so there's really no need for an intervention there."

Dean thought back to when he walked into the lab. He could mostly remember colours pulsing around him, but he also remembered the way Crowley had been towards Kevin. Yeah, he could see what Meg meant. A shiver ran down his spine. He didn't really like that thought either.

"Anyway, Crowley also helps out with legal stuff. He shares an office with our main lawyer, Michael."

"The douche who was handing out Sue?"

"That's the one."

"Don't like him."

"Most people don't like him," Meg remarked. "He holds power because he knows his shit, but he doesn't show it, he makes it look like he's just a dealer. I'm pretty sure even his brothers can't stand him, even though they often had to work together."

"Brothers?"

"He has four – no, sorry, three. Raphael died. There's Gabriel, who's supposed to be in jail, though no-one knows for sure. I mean, the guy's escaped like five different prisons so far."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Sounds impressive."

"Yeah, if you ignore the fact that that means he got caught five times too. Well, six times now."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, fair enough. Maybe he does it out of boredom. Let's himself get caught."

Meg nodded. "From what I've heard about the guy, that sounds pretty accurate. What was I saying again? Oh yeah, Michael's brothers. Yeah, Gabriel's one. Then there's Lucifer, I heard he's a lawyer too, though I'm not sure that's true. No-one has a clue where he is, or if he's even involved in this whole business. People don't really talk about him. And I really wouldn't mention him to Michael. Not if you value your life."

Dean gave a little nod. "Duly noted." He wasn't gonna promise anything though. "So what about the fourth brother?"

The nurse's face became a mask again. "Castiel."

"Let me guess, that's all you're gonna say?"

"How accurate is your shooting?"

"Accurate enough. Meg?"

"You should go to bed early. I need you sharp tomorrow."

Well, at least Dean knew more than before. That was a nice change.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Warnings for sexual content, addiction stuff, relatively graphic nightmare stuff, angst, panic attack-like stuff. Sorry for my vagueness, it's been a very long week. But yeah, next chapter's here, hope you enjoy :)

~666~

Dean tried his best to focus on the purr of the engine to help him relax, but his ass was still a bit sore, and he kept shifting in his seat. After a while Meg got so sick of it that she actually decided to try and distract him. How thoughtful of her.

"I really hope I don't have to tell you this, but when we get there, don't shoot your gun. Don't even wave it at them."

Dean raised his eyebrows. Okay, that got his attention. "Why the hell did you give me the thing then?"

"For the same reason I'm bringing you; to look pretty," she replied. "Look, just keep it in sight, but don't whip it out unless they try to shoot first. Okay?"

"You mind explaining why?"

Meg sighed and rolled her eyes. "Really have to spell it all out for you, don't I, Cupcake? Sam doesn't want a war on his hands. It's as simple as that. If we make the first move, that's a guarantee for a war. If they make the first move, we have no choice. But we need to keep our options open right now. So that gun is, just like you, for show. To show that they can't just mess around, and to make sure they won't kidnap me or anything. So if they suddenly demand a higher price than first, you don't push that gun in their faces. Just let me do the talking, alright?"

Dean nodded. That made sense. He didn't know what he was doing anyway, something that became clearer by the minute. This sucked. So far the best part of the job had been the gun, and he didn't even get to wave it.

Taking Sue and fucking Castiel didn't count as parts of the job.

Great, now he could feel his ass throb again.

He put on some music, but Megabitch _fucking turned it off again_. Dean gritted his teeth as his hands twisted the leather of the steering wheel a little.

"And what's wrong with the music?"

"Can't have your mind somewhere else."

"It relaxes me."

"So you're nervous?"

Dean threw his hands up, but quickly grabbed the wheel again to prevent a crash. "Hell yeah I'm nervous! This is my first time negotiating with a dealer about stuff I don't even know, and a lot of it too. Big amounts of money, dangerous substances, guys with guns… So yeah, I'm fucking nervous!"

"Good. I need you nervous. Keeps you sharp. And that's what I need. As long as you remind yourself not to pull out that gun unless one of us is about to die. So no twitchy fingers please."

_Don't shoot her, don't shoot her, don't shoot her…_

They arrived about ten minutes later. It was the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, a random abandoned barn. Dean suddenly felt the nerves really hit him. He had no idea what he was doing. There were no other cars to be seen, so he couldn't estimate how many people there would be waiting for them. If they were about to walk into a trap or not. He didn't know _anything_.

"So, eh, has this gone wrong before?"

Meg shook her head. "If it had, I wouldn't have just you as my bodyguard. Hell, I'd probably not have a rooky like you at all. Seriously, I don't know what Sam is doing, sending you out like this without teaching you anything."

"Yeah, me neither," Dean muttered, continuing to scan his surroundings. At least that was something he could do, always on the lookout for movement. His dad had trained him quite well during hunts.

Meg had a very good point, though. What the fuck was Sam doing? Did he _want_ Dean to screw up and get killed or something? Nothing made sense. It was fucking _infuriating_. Each time Dean though he had some questions answered, more popped up.

But he needed to focus. This was a dangerous thing to do. He suddenly realised that Meg had been right, he had every right to be nervous, and he needed to be, to keep that edge of adrenaline. If things went wrong, they could die.

_Shit._

This was definitely not GTA. This was not a game. This was real. And it was fucking deadly.

_No twitchy fingers_, he had to actively remind himself. It was difficult though. He felt a sudden need to grab his gun, hold it so that he wouldn't be caught off guard. Damn it, he need to work on his reflexes.

"Dean."

Right, reality.

They walked into the barn, and to Dean's relief they weren't ridiculously outnumbered, as far as he could see. Maybe Sam made a deal that both parties were only allowed to bring a limited amount of back-up.

The guy was Asian, to Dean's surprise. He didn't know why it surprised him, but hey, maybe that was just stereotypes. It made it hard to judge his age, but what Dean found more frustrating and worrying was that he couldn't get a read off him. Like, nothing. Stony-faced Asian man in his late somewhere-under-eighties. In case he would ever have to talk to the police. Now that was a funny thought.

Meg gave him a little nod. "Clark."

Dean bit hit tongue. He was not going to mock _Clark_. It might get him killed.

Still. _Clark_. He had to hold back a snigger.

Clark nodded back. "Miss Masters. I assume you have the payment?"

"Same as always, I have the first ten percent and the rest you will receive in your bank account over the next week."

Dean frowned. Really? That seemed a bit… strange. He ignored it, though. He was here to look pretty. Questions could be asked later. They might never be answered, but he decided to ignore that for the moment.

Meg passed over an envelope. Huh. That was another strange thing. Not a big suitcase with millions of dollars. Just an envelope. Granted, it looked full, but still.

Clark checked it, gave another nod, then pulled a little chemistry vial from his pocket. This was getting weirder by the minute. Meg opened it, dipped a little bit of special paper in it that turned from faded red to blue and tucked it away. They were given nine more vials, Meg calmly said "It was a pleasure doing business."

And that was it.

They left the barn, and Dean had absolutely no fucking clue what just happened.

Once they were on the highway again, he finally spoke up.

"You're gonna have to explain to me."

"I don't have to do anything, Cupcake."

"I know Sam won't tell me anything. Come on. Indulge me."

Meg sighed. "Yeah. Fine. Okay, so I paid him ten percent, he gave me ten percent. We can't travel with more unless we have a permit, and getting one would draw attention. It would make us traceable. And if we get caught with more than we are allowed to carry with us without having a permit, we're in deep shit."

"Okay, but now what? Is the rest gonna come in with the next pizza delivery?"

She rolled her eyes. "No-one knows the whereabouts of Sam's place. We're not going to invite them over, Sam's not that stupid."

"Yeah well, wouldn't think that with his behaviour lately…" Dean muttered.

Meg just shook her head. "You wanna know the ins and outs of the operation or not?"

Dean didn't answer. She knew that he did.

"Okay, well, the rest of the batch is going to be sent up to a place quite close to Sam's. Not too close though. They _do_ have a permit, so they're the ones supplying the stuff."

"What is the 'stuff' anyways?" Dean cut her off.

"Just a random chemical," Meg shrugged. "Cheap stuff. A hell of a lot cheaper than when Kevin manipulates its molecular structure and combines it with other stuff to make Sue. Trust me, we're making _big_ profits on this one."

Dean nodded. "I can imagine. So then what?"

"Then we pick up the rest, keeping the travelling distance short enough to minimise the risk of getting caught. Charlie always checks the surrounding roads by hacking into the police radio to see if there's any patrols nearby."

"And the payments? I mean, if you pay through a bank account it's traceable, right?"

Meg smiled. "It would be. But we've got both Ash and Charlie working on that. Charlie doesn't know exactly what she's helping with, she knows it's money business and that it's illegal, but by the time she checks for cracks in their smoke screen, Ash usually did most of the work in completely rerouting everything. Charlie is better than FBI, and no, you don't want to know how we know that, so when she tries to trace back the origins of the money and completely fails we know it's water-tight. They've been practicing that routine for months before actually getting to work on it for things like this, just to make sure there were no screw-ups. So if anyone will get screwed over, it'll be Clark and his guys for receiving suspicions amounts of money. And there is no evidence whatsoever to lead back to us."

That was impressive. But something about this bugged Dean. It took him about ten minutes before he realised what it was.

Charlie and Ash had practiced months to keep this completely free of screw-ups. Dean had been thrown into the deep end.

~666~

That night, the dreams came back.

Dean didn't know where he was, and it didn't matter. All he knew was that he was scared out of his mind.

Blue lightning cracks were crawling over the walls, slowly moving in on him as he tried to back out. Except he couldn't. When he turned around, Meg and Ruby were pinning him down, both with pitch-black eyes, holding huge needles lined with barbs. They were filled with a dark red, golden shimmering liquid.

He tried so hard, tried to struggle, but his entire body felt like it was filled with lead, he couldn't move, couldn't even scream. And then Castiel was there, fiery blue eyes glowing in the shadows, and he flashed a dazzling grin before leaning over him, running his thumb over Dean's lips, coaxing his mouth open and pushing the finger inside until Dean was gagging. But Castiel just smiled. "Open wide, Dean," he said. "It's time for your medicine."

~666~

Dean woke up screaming, flailing his arms to fight off the women who were ripping his flesh apart, but ended up hitting Meg so hard she nearly went flying. Apparently she had come speeding to his bed when he started screaming. A bit of him felt guilty, but to be honest, it was only Meg.

When he finally had his breathing under control again, he muttered an apology and quickly went to hide in the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

He looked horrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands were shaking.

And somehow, despite those horrible images that had been fuelled things he had seen when under the influence of Sue, despite it having been less than a week, he was… aching. It was like an itch right under his skin, and he couldn't scratch it. It wasn't very strong, but it was there, and Dean was right now completely aware of it.

He stared into the mirror, hoping it would distract him from the images still reeling in his head and from the constant itch. It wasn't working. Of course it wasn't working. He groaned.

Okay. He needed a shower. That might help him wake up and relax, have the warm stream beat down on his sore back muscles. Yeah. That sounded good.

The water felt nice, but now he had nothing to focus his gaze on, and the images from his nightmares hit him again in full force. It only took ten seconds before he had buckled under it, down on his knees, wheezing for air. _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck…_

Distraction. He needed distraction. He needed it now, right now, he needed Sue, the high it brought him, ached for it, craved it, needed it. But he didn't have Sue. So he went for the second thing that came to mind when he thought of a high.

He let his hand drop down, grabbing himself and starting to stroke. He gasped, and that managed to make him breathe a little more normally again for a moment. The touch on his dick wasn't doing much though. He couldn't focus, had no good mind space, needed to focus…

Terrified to do it, he closed his eyes reluctantly.

Castiel's face filled his mind, that cold blue gaze that went right through him. Dean's eyes flew open and he scrambled backwards, nearly slipping on the wet tiles. He took a few deep breaths. He could do this. He needed it. _Just calm down, Winchester. You can do this._

He let his eyes slip closed again, and Castiel was back, hovering over him. "Open wide, Dean," he said, and Dean shivered, despite the hot water beating down on him. If that was what his mind gave him, he would use it.

This time he didn't struggle. He let his mouth fall open, let Castiel coax his thumb into his mouth. He felt it, let his tongue slip out to give it a little lick. Closed his lips around it and sucked. He could see Castiel's face as the man's pupils widened a little, as his gaze grew a little darker with arousal.

And Dean let out a soft moan.

His dick was slowly hardening now, becoming more sensitive to his touch, and he started stroking himself.

When Meg finally managed to force the lock and ran into the bathroom, she was faced with the image of Dean sitting on the floor tiles of the shower, thrusting his hips and sucking and licking and moaning around his own thumb while jerking of with rapid, desperate strokes, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the shower water. He came in hot spurts all over his hand, a gasped "Cas" on his lips.

She let out a little sigh, and Dean scrambled to his feet, his eyes widened in shock and a fierce blush on his face that extended down his neck and shoulders.

"He's going to grow bored of you, Dean," she said. "And I wanna bet it's not gonna take much time either. You know why?"

He turned away from her, trying to hide his nakedness, his softening cock.

"Because within a month, there'll be nothing left of you."


End file.
